


Unexpected Music

by Stasia



Series: Rock and Roll Fantasy [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Modern AU, Multi, Off-screen Character Death, Rock Band AU, Rock and Roll, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 120
Words: 294,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stasia/pseuds/Stasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo, a well-known professor of organic chemistry at a local college, writes fantasy in his spare time. When his nephew Frodo's parents go on a round-the-world cruise on their small boat, he plays host to the teenaged boy and the entertaining pack of friends who follow him around. This means, however, that when Frodo wins tickets to the big end-of-summer concert, Bilbo must chaperone, and Rock has never piqued his interest quite so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One - Rock and Roll Stars are Interesting to Look At

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, the idea for this story wouldn't leave me alone. I love the image of Thorin and his friends as a rock band, and poor Bilbo meeting them, all unprepared. 
> 
> I'll be posting one chapter every Saturday.

"So, I remembered what I'm doing this weekend," Bilbo said, opening the metal door and stepping into the small cluttered lab and office room he shared with his fellow assistant professor. He moved around the pile of half-empty boxes of glass jars and dropped his bag next to his battered chair. "There's a big music festival happening in the park and - "

"You're going to see _Erebor_? But you hate rock music!"

Bilbo sighed, sinking into his chair and spinning it to face Lobelia. The wicked twist in her grin made him flinch. "Frodo won the tickets on that radio station he likes, and there's four tickets, and he's sixteen." He rubbed his eyes. "He's bringing his band of lunatics, of course, but they can't get in without a legal guardian."

Lobelia's smile sharpened and she started tapping at her keyboard. "Well, their lead singer is really hot, so at least you'll have something to look at." She gestured him over and pointed to the screen as he leaned over her shoulder to watch. It was filled with little images of the headlining band for the festival. Most of the pictures were too dark for him to really see what was going, but one… well. He barely heard as she snickered and clicked on it; the screen suddenly filled with more naked chest than Bilbo had seen in over two years.

The man - Bilbo supposed he was the lead singer - stood with his head slightly back. His dark hair, streaked with silver, flowed over his shoulders; Bilbo studiously ignored the way he wanted to test if those shoulders felt as firm as they looked. His broad chest was muscular but not over-done – he looked like he worked for a living, not like he spent hours in the gym. The curve of his fingers around the neck of his guitar as he held it propped over his shoulder made Bilbo's mouth dry. His cold blue eyes stared into the camera – and by default, into Bilbo's own. 

With a grin, Lobelia scrolled down. "Like what you see? This is Thorin Durin, Erebor's lead singer." She paused the scroll at Thorin's hips. He was wearing leather pants so tight Bilbo thought they just might be painted on. They hung low on his hips, showing just a hint of shadow at his pelvis. He was wearing a deep blue belt with a large geometrically carved triangular wooden buckle. It didn't quite cover – but served well to frame – the startlingly large bulge between his legs.

"And that," Lobelia said, pointing at the belt buckle, "is his Oaken Shield." Her voice quavered and she collapsed into giggles.

Bilbo stood, feeling slightly light-headed. "Well," he said, trying to ignore his pink cheeks, "you're right. At least I'll have something to look at." He coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Is the music bad?"

"Haven't you heard … " She opened another tab on the laptop and checked her speakers. "Ookay," she muttered, typing something into the search bar. "Here. I'm sure you've heard this. It's everywhere." Once she was sure the music was started, she clicked back to the picture of the lead singer of the band.

For a moment, there was silence, then a heavy metallic note came from her laptop. It held for a moment, then faded as if a large wire was vibrating to a stop. Less than a heartbeat later, it came again; the sound hung in the air, filling the small office. After three repetitions, what sounded like a pair of violins began playing, and then Bilbo couldn't hear any instrument over the sound of an electric guitar and a deep voice, singing something about boats - or sailing, Bilbo wasn't quite sure. The voice moved down Bilbo's spine, making him shiver. He couldn't stop himself from looking back at the image on the screen, at the man's piercing blue eyes with those dark thick lashes...

"Yes," he said, "I have." He shook his head. "Um, can you turn that down? It's a bit..." 

She raised an eyebrow at him and turned her speakers off. "You know, for a young guy, you're awfully old."

"Shut up, you whippersnapper. And get off my lawn, while you're at it." He laughed and sat down in his chair again, carefully not looking back at her laptop. "I can't help it that I grew up listening to classical music and watching musical theater. I never did get the hang of this rock stuff." He smirked at her spluttered laughter and continued. "And don't bring up my vintage Pink Floyd records."

She shook her head. "Yes, fine, whatever. But you'll have a great time at the concert." She stopped the music and shut her laptop, sliding it into her backpack. "I've got class in ten minutes. If I don't get down there early, the kids'll never let me hear the end of it."

He waved as she left, then turned his own computer on. After checking his email and sighing at the questions from his General Chemistry students, he sat staring at Google. Finally, shaking his head at himself, he typed "Erebor lead singer" into the search bar. The page loaded instantly and he looked at the myriad tiny images.

"You're an idiot," he said out loud. "Just because Sm–" His lips compressed and he clicked away from the open tab on the screen. Time to do something useful with his time and stop looking at things he'd never get.

That night at dinner, across the table from Frodo, he listened with half an ear to the boy's excited chatter about something that had happened at school. The word 'Durin' caught his ear and he sat up. 

"Wait, say that again?"

Frodo laughed, his eyes bright. "I _thought_ you weren't listening! Okay, here's the thing. We're going to the Erebor concert, yeah?" Bilbo nodded. "I heard from the radio station – they sent me an email – Anyway, the people who won the tickets get to meet the bands after the show. There's a thing." He rummaged in his pants pocket, pulling out a half sheet of lined paper. "The station added a Meet and Greet after the concert. I know you don't want to go, so I figured you'd pick us up after, right?"

"Where is it?"

Frodo checked his notes and Bilbo wondered how the boy could read his own writing. 

"It's at the _24/7_. That's the dance club near the park, isn't it?" 

"I think so. If it's there, you'll probably need me to go – they serve alcohol."

Frodo rolled his eyes. "It's not a bar, Uncle Bilbo."

Bilbo just shook his head. "Finish your dinner and do your homework. I don't want to have to tell your parents you failed your classes while you're staying with me." He smiled as Frodo set to the dish of spaghetti bolognese he'd made. He'd made more than twice the amount he did when it was just himself; he'd learned just how much food a growing teenage boy could eat.

"Don't actually inhale it, kiddo," he said. "Your lungs can't take it." He shoved his empty bowl at Frodo. "Once you've finished, bring the bowls to the kitchen and fill the dishwasher. I'm going to my office to do some writing. Go to bed by midnight."

"Can I have - " 

"Only one of the ice cream sandwiches, Frodo. If you're still hungry, there's more spagbol." Bilbo wandered off to his office, shaking his head. He was sure he hadn't been so voracious when he was a teen.

Bilbo shut the door of his office and sat at the desk, sighing slightly before pulling his laptop open. He needed to get back to the novel he was writing; the quizzes and lab reports could wait another day. Just over two weeks ago, in the chaos of the first week of the new school year, he'd gotten an email from his publicist asking for an update on his progress. He still hadn't responded; the first few weeks of a school year were always very busy and he hadn't had time to look at anything other than classwork, lesson plans, curriculum changes and the usual bizarre pronouncements from Administration. He knew his publicist didn't expect a quick response, but he still felt bad.

He was working on the third and last book in the series, and as usual, he'd wandered pretty far away from the drafted outline for the story. He knew that by the time he was finished with the full first draft, he'd have put in everything he needed, but right now the draft looked like a huge uncoordinated mess. He'd stopped writing during the summer because there was something he'd needed to research and, as usual, he'd been so distracted by the interesting stuff he'd found in his reading that he hadn't been sure how to put all the information into the book. 

As a child, he'd grown up reading stories of the vast empty lands in the center of the United States and the steppes of Russia; it was when he spent several months working for a summer camp with horses that the story started to grow in his head. He'd started to put together a story about Horse Lords and Shield Maidens, all set in the unforgiving landscape of grassy plains under a deep bowl of a brilliant blue sky. By the time he graduated from high school, he'd created several thousands of years of history for his fictional country.

He'd set writing aside while he worked his way through college and then graduate school, but once he was more settled and his schedule less over-full, the characters started reappearing in his thoughts. When he woke up three times in a row from dreams of the characters, he started writing their stories. The first book in the series had come out nearly six months ago and Bilbo had been taken aback at how popular it was. 

He opened the folder with the story and started to read it over, to see where he'd left off. Half an hour later, he found himself humming the first part of the song Lobelia had played for him that morning. Without thinking about it too deeply, he decided to take a short break and opened Chrome.

"Now let's see," he muttered. He typed 'Erebor' into Google and clicked on the Images tab. _Wow, there are a lot of pictures of the guy shirtless._ He found the one Lobelia had clicked on and opened it in another tab. After looking at a couple of others, he found an image of the whole band. The image was titled "Thorin Durin and the Company of Erebor."

There were six people in the group; the lead singer, Durin, stood centered in the picture glaring at the camera, resting his guitar on the ground between his feet. Bilbo stared at it; it almost looked like it had half a harp attached to the guitar neck. There were two younger men flanking Durin, one blond and one with hair nearly as dark as Durin's was. The blond's guitar had two necks and the dark haired man held a viola under his chin. The blonde stood side on to the camera, a smirk on his face, while the dark haired one looked as if he were about to start laughing at any moment.

Bilbo blinked at the screen, then looked at the three men standing in the back. The bass guitarist was a giant red-head – his hair was huge and bushy and his beard went halfway down his chest. It was worked into complicated braids; some had beads dangling from the ends. He was wearing a bright tie-dyed tee shirt with sparkling stones glued to it. The man to his left had bright hair all twisted and braided until his head looked like a beautiful carved piece of antique silver. His hair's metallic luster was set off by his rich dark skin and eyes, and his short beard was braided in the same twisting patterns and then into his hair. He wore a woven metal choker set with heavy black stones, over a tightly fitted shirt, showing every curve of muscle and bone.

Bilbo stared at these two for a long moment, then laughed a little. _Well, the guys from Kiss don't wear that makeup all the time, and ZZ Top's beards are much longer than these. I guess rock musicians are just prone to looking unusual._

In the back, behind a large drum set that seemed to have several different ranks of drums, stood a broad man with thick black hair and a greying beard. He'd braided his mustache into his beard, which meant the braids were alternating black and grey. 

"Well," said Bilbo, leaning back, "they're certainly interesting to look at." He avoided looking at the lead singer's naked chest. 

He went to Amazon and looked for the band's albums. Maybe he should get the most recent one. He was going to see them in concert, after all; it would be like doing homework, to get used to the songs the band played before seeing them perform. That way, he reasoned, he could get the full effect of hearing them live.

Fifteen minutes later, he was humming along to the song he'd heard on the radio while he worked on getting his main character into trouble.


	2. Two - It's Easy to Find Pretty Things at Summer Festivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer music festivals are always fun.

By the time Friday came around, Bilbo was nearly ready to strangle Frodo. He knew it was the kid's first 'real' concert, but he'd been bouncing off the walls all week long and Bilbo couldn't wait for the inevitable crash on Sunday. 

When he got home on Friday, Frodo's backpack sat spilling papers onto the floor in the foyer. Bilbo sighed, shoved it aside with his foot, took his shoes off at the little shoe rack he'd built, and went down the hall towards the sound of the fridge beeping its annoyance at having been left open too long.

Frodo was just finishing building a sandwich of truly Dagwoodian proportions. Bilbo shook his head, smiling to himself. "Hey, kiddo," he said, "don't forget to bring your backpack into your room. You should get your schoolwork done tonight before your friends get here."

Frodo nodded, his mouth too full to say anything. After a few moments which Bilbo filled by making a plate for himself – he chose some cheese and fruit – Frodo swallowed. 

"Sure, Bilbo," he said. "Sam's coming over as soon as his mom doesn't need his help with Mari." He took a last huge bite of his sandwich.

Bilbo laughed. "I should cut a door into that back fence. It would save Sam so much climbing."

Frodo shook his head, his mouthful of food making his cheek bulge out. "Nah, he likes it. Says it's like he's sneaking over." When they were both finished, he stacked Bilbo's plate on top of his own and brought them to the sink. Bilbo leaned back, watching him. Sam spent all his free time here with Frodo – they'd been friends for years but something seemed to change when Frodo came to stay with Bilbo while his parents were off on their cruise. Sam was never over when Frodo wasn't home, but he seemed to spend all his time at Bilbo's wherever Frodo was there.

Bilbo sat forward. "When are the hordes descending?" 

"Merry and Pip said they'd be here for dinner, so, um, when's dinner?"

Bilbo laughed. "I was thinking of making roast chicken and veg, with rice. And maybe a second chicken to bring cold tomorrow, for lunch." He smiled up at Frodo, who was leaning back against the sink. "Something occurred to me. You said there are four tickets, but that can't be right. You're bringing five, including me. Unless one of Merry or Pip are staying home.”

Frodo looked sheepish. “There were four tickets, but when they emailed me about the party after? I emailed them back and said my parents had to come along, but I couldn't leave any of my friends out, so could they send more tickets.”

Bilbo closed his eyes. “You didn't...”

“Yeah, I thought it couldn't hurt. And anyway, they gave me two more tickets! So it's all good, right?”

Bilbo sighed. “I guess so. Anyway, I checked and it looks like there'll be booths or something for food, but I thought it might be nice to have something from home. And I figure you kids'll want to spend your money on shirts or something. Posters. Whatever it is kids get at concerts now."

Frodo stood up, eyes wide. "Oh! How much money will I need? I didn't.."

Bilbo laughed again. "Never fear. I've got cash for you. I figured sixty bucks should do." He pushed out of his chair. "Go get your work done and I'll get started on dinner. Tell your friends it'll be ready at about seven." He grinned as Frodo dashed from the kitchen, snagging one of the muffins Bilbo had made the night before. There were muffled thumps from the front door as Frodo picked up his pack – Bilbo amused himself by trying to figure out how much of the bag got dumped out this time – and then he heard music start pouring out of Frodo's room as he turned his computer on.

With a sigh, he turned to the kitchen. He loved having Frodo stay with him, but sometimes it left him feeling oddly lonely. Having someone else in the house reminded him that he spent much of his time alone. As he pulled the chickens from the fridge, he thought that it was about time he went home and visited his parents. 

* * *

They were met at the concert entrance by staff from the radio station, who brought them to the area set aside for the ticket winners. Bilbo was pleased to see that there were picnic tables and large lockers in the VIP area, and he shrugged off his backpack with the lunch he'd brought onto the nearest one. He grinned at the lady from the radio as Frodo and his friends bounced up and down while their bright red wrist bands were taped on, their heads craning around to try to see everything all at once. After he reminded them that they couldn't get beer ("The red wrist bands mean you're underage," he said to Pippin, shaking his head.) and that they'd have to come back to the VIP area for the meet-and-greet with Erebor after the show. The staff member wrestling with their wrist bands suggested they come back for the concert itself, as there was a special close-in viewing area blocked out for ticket winners. Then he checked to make sure they all had his number and some money and stood laughing as they ran off. 

"Are they all yours?" The woman who'd checked them in was standing next to him smiling, holding his green wristband out. She was tall and slender, with long red hair tied up in complicated braids. 

"Oh gods no," Bilbo said, smiling back at her. "No, just the dark-haired one, in the blue shirt and the vest. And even he's not really mine, just something like my nephew." He struggled with the tape of the wrist band for a moment, then got it to stick to itself rather than to his wrist. "That's got it. My family's rather large and I don't have anyone right now, so my cousins gave me Frodo while they're off on their life's dream of a cruise." He smiled at her confused expression. "Like a pet, you know."

She shook her head. "How nice for you?"

He laughed. "Yeah, it's a little odd, I guess. I grew up in a small town, Hobbiton?" She shook her head and he shrugged. "Small town, a bit south east of here, very rural. Anyway, all the kids in my generation grew up like puppies in a pile, so we're all still close. Frodo's parents are my - " he paused and thought for a moment. "Ah, Drogo, his father, is my second cousin on my father's side and Primula, his mother, is my first cousin on my mother's side. So that makes him my first and second cousin, once removed." He smiled at her startled face. "Genealogy is a bit of a hobby of my family's. Given how much we're all inter-related, it's sort of important." 

She tucked her hands into her pants pockets. "My family's small, so we haven't paid much attention to stuff like that. My boss, now," she gestured over her shoulder at a tall man with long blond hair caught back from his face with a leather band that looked like it had leaves on it, "his family's very old. He's much more interested in keeping track of how everyone's connected." She smirked, her eyes suddenly sparkling. "I think I'm related to him, really distantly, but my family's the black sheep sort or something. He was really upset for a while when his son had a crush on me."

Bilbo laughed. "There's no pleasing some people." 

They stood for a quiet moment, watching the crowd as it swirled past. A couple came to the gate and the lady from the radio station stepped forward, asking if she could help them. Bilbo watched her for a moment; she explained that this was a VIP area for people who'd won tickets on the radio so they couldn't come in but that there were good viewing areas further along. The third time she had to explain the same thing, Bilbo shook his head, sighing. _Some people,_ he thought. _Can't take NO for an answer._

He stepped past the small group trying to get into the VIP area and grinned at the lady. "See you later, sir," she called after him, and he waved. 

Bilbo was surprised at how busy the festival was already. He'd been given a map of the festival grounds when they'd arrived, and he stepped to the side of one of the vending tents to look at it. There were three stages – which explained the music already pouring over the field – and acres of craft and food vendors. Tucking the map back into his pocket, he re-joined the people walking down the aisles, smiling at the excited people around him.

For a while he allowed himself to be pulled along with the crowd, looking idly at the various crafts being sold, but after about half an hour, he slowed down. Everywhere, people were in groups; there were large groups of kids – they looked like his students at the university – and he could see couples and other groups as well. He seemed like the only person alone in the entire place. 

"Well, shit," he said. 

"I know some of it's kinda rough, but I didn't think it was _that_ bad." 

Bilbo swung around at the slightly amused voice behind him. "What?" he said. "Oh, no, I didn't mean, I mean..." The voice he'd responded to broke into laughter.

He'd stepped into a booth without noticing; the tables on three sides of the booth were covered in jaunty piles of figurines. Many were wooden, but some were intricately balanced extravagances of metal gears and sparkling crystals. His eyes traveled over the tables, then found the face of the vendor, still creased with laughter.

"But this is wonderful," Bilbo said, reaching out to touch a figurine carved into the likeness of an elf – tall and ethereal, her hair seemingly caught by a stray breeze and her hands holding a half-drawn bow at her side. 

"Why thank you," said the man, grinning. Bilbo looked at him again, brows catching a little at the odd hat the man was wearing. It was a sunny day outside but this man was wearing the weirdest take on an aviator hat he'd ever seen. The front flap was fleecy, but the ear flaps didn't just hang – they stuck out to the sides and then curved down like a bird's wings. 

Bilbo coughed. "Erm. You're welcome." He paused, eyes drawn back to the little figures. "They really are amazing."

The vendor laughed. "I'll tell my cousin you liked them." His hands were busy and Bilbo stepped closer. 

"Does he make them?" Bilbo stepped closer, picking up a wooden carving of a low mounded hill with a riot of painted flowers outside a funny round green door. The door was partly open and Bilbo could just see inside – it looked as if the door led to a little house inside the hill. He put it down, smiling, and leaned on the table near the vendor. "He's really skilled – OH. Oh, _you_ make them!" The man had a heavy canvas cloth over his lap and a half-carved bear in his hands. 

"We both do," came the answer. "I'm Bofur, and he's Bifur." Bofur smiled up at Bilbo, who smiled back. 

"Bilbo," he said. "And I'm delighted to meet you. Wherever do you come up with these?" He gestured around at the tables, smiling as two young children dragged their parents into the booth, all four people clearly impressed. The girl picked up a metal dragon with a crank on the side and turned the crank gently, making the wings extend and flap.

"Hey mom! Mommy, look at this!" She held it out and turned the crank again. The two women turned, and the shorter one's face lit. 

"That's a great dragon," she said, touching it on the snout. She turned to Bofur and Bilbo snorted as her expression froze for a second at his hat. "I, uh. Wow."

Bofur beamed at her. "Like it?" He nodded at the dragon. "We've got some in reds like that, or in some pretty greens?" He set down the short knife he'd been using to carve the bear and, bundling up the carving, set the canvas aside so he could show the other colors of dragons. 

Bilbo stood and watched, enjoying the childrens' joy at each different toy. When the family had bought one of the dragons and two little wooden animals – a large bear and a moose with the most improbably sized antlers – Bilbo found himself the focus of Bofur's attention again. 

"So," Bofur said, settling back down on his stool, "what had you so upset you insulted my creatures?"

"What?" Bilbo looked at him in confusion, then sighed as he remembered. "Oh, nothing really. Just, sometimes I find that life isn't what I expected, you know?"

Bofur's face softened. "I do, indeed. The thing is, you never know when it'll change, though."

Bilbo smiled down at the funny little carving he'd picked up. It was a dwarf, clearly, because it was holding a hammer, but it was nothing like the silly Disney versions. This one was broad and strong, its hammer held to one side while in the other hand it held a short, choppy looking sword. Its chest was covered in a full beard with complicated braids running through it. "Nice dwarf," he said, setting it down.

Bofur grinned. "We've a whole set, over there." He pointed at the table across the booth. "Bifur even made us some battle boars for them to ride."

Bilbo laughed. "Battle boars?" Sure enough, there was a little skirmish set up on the table, with dwarves in different poses and types of armor; the ones riding the battle boars looked almost like Samurai. One dwarf stood at the top of the little fabric covered hill they seemed to be fighting over; he was taller than the rest, with hair flowing down his back, a short beard, and a longer, curved sword. Something about his expression looked sad to Bilbo, as if he didn't really want to be there. 

He picked the dwarf up, turning him in his hands. He'd been painted with silvery armor over a dark blue tunic, with matching blue eyes and black hair. 

"Ah," said Bofur. "You found Deathless." He'd come back around from his seat and was looking into Bilbo's face. "Not many people like him."

"Deathless?" Bilbo's finger caught on the tip of the sword.

Bofur chuckled. "Yeah, that's what we call him – he's part of an older set that fell apart some years ago." He reached for the carving and Bilbo was surprised at how unwilling he was to let it go. Bofur ran his fingers over the figure, then turned to look directly into Bilbo's face. His eyes searched Bilbo's for a second, then he burst into a wide smile. "Looks like you're the one for him, though. Here." He pressed the carving, Deathless, into Bilbo's hand and closed his fingers around it. 

"Now," he said, stepping back and gesturing widely around. "Surely he'll need some friends at your house. How about this nice guy here?" He picked up a tall gnarled tree with apples hanging from it. "Oh, maybe not," he said, laughing. "This is more his style." Now he was holding a little man carved to stand no taller than the Dwarf's shoulder. 

Bilbo laughed and shook his head. "I couldn't. I mean," he tried to hand Deathless back to Bofur. "I don't really..."

Bofur's hands shot behind his back. "Even if you don't take anyone else, Deathless is yours. No charge. Free to a good home." He smiled down at the carving. "He's been in need of adoption for a while, and it looks like you're it." 

Half an hour later, Bilbo walked back to the VIP area, a small paper bag in his hands. He'd ended up with a small dragon in red, the little man Bofur'd insisted on, one of the tall elves, and the strange little house in a hill. Deathless stood unwrapped on top of the whole mess, propped in the bag as if he were watching where they were going. Bofur had tucked his card in the bag as well, insisting that Bilbo send him pictures of where the set ended up in his house. 

Bilbo ate lunch with Frodo and his friends, laughing at their excited discussion of what they'd done at the festival so far. Erebor, the only band Bilbo even recognized, wasn't playing until nearly three, so their exuberance about the other groups just made him shake his head. After they finished eating, he reminded them to come back for Erebor, then started clearing off the table. When everything was put away, he pulled out last weeks' lab reports and started grading. 

Grading wasn't the worst part of the job – that was saved for dealing with Administration and State Officials – but it wasn't his favorite part. It was charming to do the work here in the bright sunshine and fresh air. The sometimes distracting crowds were even pleasant as they kept him from feeling frustrated at how often the students repeated themselves – and each other. 

He kept half an ear open for when Frodo and his friends came back, and when he heard Pip's clear voice asking one of the people from the radio station why they couldn't go and get him a beer, he sighed, shoved his work back in his bag, and went to go rescue the other adult. He could see Sam's disapproving face behind Frodo.

The person Pippin was talking to was obviously amused at his earnest attempt. As Bilbo came up to the group, the young man, who looked like it wasn't so long ago that he'd had to ask for someone to get him beer, grinned at the boys and slipped back to the entry gate. 

Pippin beamed at Bilbo. “I'll wear him down yet,” he said. “He's getting weaker, I can tell.” 

Beside him, Frodo rolled his eyes. “You're delusional.” Sam just crossed his arms and glared at them.

Merry and Pippin bowed. “That's why you like us,” they chorused, and Bilbo started laughing. 

“Come on, troublemakers,” he said, “let's go down to the front and see about good seats, yeah?” The four boys took off at a quick trot towards the side of the VIP area nearest the stage; Bilbo thought he heard one of them asking the others if they thought they were going to sit down. He started to follow them when the young man at the gate caught his elbow.

“They'll be fine down there.” He nodded in the direction Frodo and the others had taken. “But honestly, the viewing's better from up here.” He gestured at a set of stairs Bilbo hadn't seen which led up the side of the large RV the staff were using as an office. Bilbo shook his head.

“I hadn't even noticed there was a platform up there. Are you sure it's okay for me to go up?”

The man nodded, leading the way up the stairs. His long blond hair shifted a little in the wind; for some reason it made Bilbo think of the tall man with the leaves on his head from earlier. When they got to the platform, the similarity was confirmed when his guide stood next to the other man and said something. They both turned to him and he nearly took a step back as they approached. The older man wore a dark brown shirt over dark jeans, and, Bilbo was bemused to notice, his headband _did_ have leaves on it. When they got closer, Bilbo could see that his shirt had leaves and flowers embroidered on it in the exact shade of brown as the shirt itself.

“It's very nice to meet you – you're with the young man who won the last set of tickets, right?” At Bilbo's nod, he continued. “I am Thranduil Laegrim.” He paused and Bilbo wondered if he was supposed to recognize the name. After an almost imperceptible moment, Thranduil continued, gesturing at the younger man at his side. “This is my son, Legolas. If you'd emailed at first, we'd have sent along another ticket without your son needing to ask." 

Bilbo's brows drew together. "I'm sorry. He didn't need to do that.”

"However," the man said, "even if only one of the young men is yours, surely you wanted to bring your companion?"

“Ah.” Bilbo smiled. “No, it's fine. I mean, I'm really just here because Frodo and his friends aren't old enough to come on their own. I might have let them come by themselves – I'm sure they could have found other friends to bring – but there's that get together thing, after? At the _24/7_...” 

He trailed off as the noise from the croud rose. Legolas and Thranduil turned to look at the stage, making Bilbo smile; they seemed very coordinated, as if they'd been working together for so long that they moved as one being.

Thranduil nodded to Bilbo, crooked an eyebrow at Legolas, and stepped away to join one of the other groups up on the platform. Legolas smiled down at Bilbo, who realized that both men were quite a bit taller than him.

“The view is excellent from the front of the coach.” He pointed to the small, crowded viewing area set up at the front of the roof of the vehicle. When Bilbo found a place, he heard a laugh next to him and turned to see the redheaded woman from the morning standing next to him.

“You made it up here,” she said, her voice filled with pleasure. At his nod and smile, she continued, “I'm Tauriel Noldorin. Did your kids abandon you?”

He snorted. “No, although I think the two troublemakers would have been willing. They're down in the front - “ He pointed at where he could just barely see Sam's head calm and steady among the heaving crowd. “And then Legolas there brought me up here. I'm Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins.”

She grinned at him. “Much nicer up here, Mr Baggins.”

He smiled back. “Just Bilbo, if you please. Mr Baggins is my father, and,” he lifted one shoulder self-depreciatingly, “if we're going to be precise, I'm actually Doctor Baggins. Professor, in a pinch.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Then I'm Tauriel.”

The stage, which had been dark and shadowed, flared with light and the crowd started yelling. At first there were just spotlights circling around, flashing bright colors from the strategically placed mirrors and gel-colored bulbs; the lights began a tight inward spiral, until they converged on an empty spot at the front of the stage leaving the rest of the stage entirely dark.

As soon as the lights converged into one steady beam, the crowd fell silent. It seemed to Bilbo almost as if a switch had been thrown and all the sound was turned off. Then the light went dark for a heartbeat; when it flashed back to life, Thorin Durin stood in the center of the spotlight. His face was closed and still, but his eyes reflected the light back, almost glowing blue. His chest was bare except for dark hair curling across his pecs and arrowing down his flat stomach and into the low waistband of his tight leather pants.

The crowd screamed. 

Beside him, Tauriel laughed. “He's _such_ a show off. I mean, uh, showman.” Her voice was very dry. Bilbo snorted, but found it harder than he expected to take his eyes off the broad muscles of Durin's chest.

The rest of the stage lights came up showing the other band members who waved and grinned, as friendly and interactive as Durin was still and monolithic.

When the crowd's noise died down a bit, Durin lifted the guitar which had been resting between his feet and swung the elaborately embroidered strap over his shoulder. Bilbo could see the percussionist and keyboardist counting down. Then the heavy, heart-stopping single note of the song that Bilbo had heard in his and Lobelia's office rung out and the crowd went wild again.

Bilbo stepped back, slightly startled by the noise; he felt Tauriel's shoulder lean gently against his and he relaxed a bit. And then there was nothing except the music and the band, and the sound of the crowd, which seemed to blend with the songs as if it were a last, uncredited instrument.


	3. Three - Meeting the band isn't what Bilbo expected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the band!

Legolas checked their names against a long list as they went through the doors of the club. Before they went inside, Legolas explained that they'd first go through the line to meet Durin and two of the other band members, then there'd be a small buffet with free soft drinks for the younger attendees and wine or beer for adults, and that the band would mingle with the guests for an hour or so after everyone had gone through the line. He grinned at Bilbo as Frodo and his friends leaned around him to try to see inside.

Merry and Pippin pushed ahead of the others and in his hurry, Merry ran directly into a huge man with a mohawk and tattoos running down his muscular arms. He scowled down at the two kids, then silently pointed at the back of the line.

“Wow, did you see that guy?” Pippin's whisper was barely soft enough to be called one. “The bouncers here are scary.” Bilbo started to say something, but the bouncer caught his eye and winked, making Bilbo turn away to hide his sudden smile.

As he turned, he saw that the room was small and lit with soft overhead lights and sconces which spilled gold light onto the walls. The band stood in a puddle of light while the rest of the room was slightly dim which had the effect of making it seem as if the band, and those meeting them, were in a separate world. Bilbo could just see which three of the band were at the head of the line; the lead singer and the two back up guitarists, the blond and the darker haired one. They were standing near the back of the room, and the line stretched nearly to the entry door. _For a small event, there seem to be an awful lot of people here._

Bilbo stood slightly to the side of the line; he'd learned on previous excursions that Merry and Pip tended to get over-excited and it was best to both stay out of their way and try to block strangers from being hit by stray limbs. This time most of the other attendees were either similarly excited about meeting the band or amused by the antics of the other people waiting with them, so Bilbo shrugged and let the kids get on with it.

Sam stood a little away from the other three, watching them carefully. He often acted as if he were much older than his friends. Bilbo reminded himself to talk to Sam's parents to see if the amount of time he was spending with Frodo at Bilbo's house was cutting into time he was needed at home. He'd known Sam's father when they all still lived in Hobbiton, but had lost touch when he'd gone to University and Hamfast had come to town to get work. When he bought his house, Bilbo had been delighted to find Hamfast and his family lived so close. 

He glanced up towards the band again. There was a group of five or six people standing talking to the band. Someone was sort of wandering around behind the band members; Bilbo wondered if they needed handlers or if they thought the fans might need one. The people talking to the band seemed very excited, one of them was holding onto the blond guitarist's arm with one hand and gesturing with the other. Bilbo couldn't see what she was pointing at, but the guitarist's expression was amused. Bilbo's eyes moved over the group and he saw that Durin was staring down the line with a tight expression. Durin's eyes caught his and narrowed, then he abruptly turned away and said something to the other guests. Bilbo suddenly wondered how the band felt about being on display like this. 

Merry and Pippin knocked into Frodo while they were wrestling with each other, sending him staggering into Sam. Sam's arms came up around Frodo; for the few seconds that Frodo leaned into him, Sam's expression was filled with wonder. 

“Hey,” Frodo laughed, pushing Merry away from himself, “stop horsing around. You nearly made me knock Sam over.” He stepped away from Sam and Bilbo saw Sam's hand reach out for Frodo's arm but then drop. Sam looked around and caught Bilbo's eye; he looked worried, all of a sudden, but Bilbo just smiled and shrugged. 

“Peregrin and Meriadoc, don't make me call your mothers,” he said, pitching his voice to sound as strict as possible. The two boys immediately straightened up and pretended they hadn't been doing anything wrong, which made the woman in line behind them smile at Bilbo and shake her head. 

“Why d'you have that funny little wooden guy in your pocket?” Merry reached out to grab Deathless from where Bilbo had idly stuck him in the chest pocket of his light jacket. Bilbo raised an eyebrow and the boy pulled his hand back.

“He wanted to come along,” Bilbo said, but internally he wasn't at all sure why he'd brought the carving. The rest of the stuff he and the boys had bought was in the car, but at the last minute he'd grabbed the fierce looking Dwarf and stuck him in a pocket. 

Merry shrugged and leaned over to see how close they were to the front of the line. “Cool,” he said. “Only one more group to go. What're you going to say, Sam?” 

Sam grinned. “I'm going to say that I really liked the show and that they play really well.”

Pippin groaned. “That's so boring. I bet they hear that from everyone. _I'm_ going to tell them that they should have used the harp guitar instead of the plain one Durin was playing today.”

Even Merry facepalmed. “Pip,” he groaned, “I'm pretty sure that you shouldn't criticize the instruments they brought.”

Pippin turned to him. “Why not? I mean, I'm not criticizing – I just like the way the harp guitar looks and the plain one is, well – “

“Plain?” asked a deep, slightly harsh voice.

They all turned at the new voice and Bilbo realized that they'd moved into the front of the line without paying attention to it. Pippin stared up at Thorin Durin, who'd been the one to speak, his eyes getting wider and wider until Bilbo started to worry they'd fall out of his head.

Durin smirked slightly and continued. “None of the songs we performed in this set needed the harp guitar, so I used the more traditional one.” Pippin squeaked, and Bilbo thought he could see a spark of amusement in Durin's blue eyes.

Frodo burst forward. “It was great, Mr. Durin, really. I loved the whole thing, especially the songs about fire and dragons.” 

The blond guitarist leaned forward. “Oh good, those are my favorites as well. I used to pretend, when I was a kid, that there was a huge red dragon down in the culvert under the road near home.” At this, Sam brightened.

“I used to think there was a huge monster down under my parent's garden nursery. It had this long dark staircase with a bend halfway down and the lights didn't always work, so – “ He broke off when the blond guitarist laughed.

“Just like my brother, right, Kili?” He elbowed the darker haired guitarist, who elbowed him back hard enough to make him grunt. “There was this basement in our grandparents' house, god, it must have been half a mile underground...”

Kili shook his head, but grinned. “Whatever you say, Fili, but it wasn't me who had to have the night light on until he was ten.”

“I never had a night light,” Pip declared, throwing his chest forward. Next to him, Frodo snorted. 

“No, you just fall asleep with the regular lights on, you big jerk,” he said.

“I can't help it that I'm too busy to turn the lights out before I fall asleep!”

Bilbo stood a little to the side, smiling as Sam started talking to the blond guitarist – Fili – about the monster he'd imagined. 

“Are they all yours?”

Bilbo jumped and turned; he'd forgotten that Durin was standing next to him. Durin had put on a shirt before coming to the evening event, but hadn't buttoned it or changed out of his tight pants; the shirt hung open, leaving his chest entirely exposed. Bilbo forced his eyes to stay at or above the singer's collarbones. They were distracting enough to look at and he didn't want to embarrass himself by making it seem as if he was like the screaming teenage fans he'd seen in the audience.

“What? Oh,” he chuckled. “No, no. Only the one of them is mine, and even he's not really mine. I mean, I've sort of borrowed him, or, rather, he was sort of given to me.” He paused, aware that he was babbling. “I mean,” he tried again, “his parents are off on a world cruise – their lifelong dream vacation – so he's staying with me until they get back.” He glanced back at Frodo, who was now gesturing wildly and laughing at Merry. “The one with the dark curly hair, Frodo. He's my nephew, sort of.”

Durin looked at the teenagers, then back at Bilbo. “So you've brought them here? By yourself?” His voice was slightly hoarse and Bilbo wondered if he always sounded like that or if it was because he'd been singing earlier that day. 

“Well, Frodo won the tickets and he'd have been disappointed if he hadn't been able to meet you.” A burst of laughter from the group made him look over and smile. “And it's not by himself – he brought his band of hooligans.”

“I mean – “ Durin started, then shook his head. “So you came _just_ for him? If you were bored, surely you didn't need to come along.” He looked sour.

Bilbo smiled. “I wasn't bored at all. I wandered around the booths for a while, then I did some paperwork.”

Durin crossed his arms, brows pulling together, expression darkening. “You did work? What, in the middle of a giant festival? Wasn't there anything more interesting to do? Did you watch the concert at all?”

Blbo watched Frodo stand with Fili and Kili to have Sam take their picture with his phone. Then they all shuffled around so that Merry and Pippin could stand with the musicians for a picture. “Oh, um, of course I did.” 

“Did you like anything about the music?” Durin growled.

Bilbo turned back to Durin, a bit confused. He seemed frustrated, but Bilbo couldn't think of anything he'd done to annoy him. 

“Yes, in fact,” he said, “I liked the song about fire, and the one you played in the middle, the one based on Hall of the Mountain King.”

The dark haired guitarist – Bilbo thought he'd been called Kili – looked over. “Oh, you liked that? Thanks – that one was my idea. Uncle here didn't want to do it, but I said it was traditional.” He grinned at Durin. “Most people don't know the music it's based on, though, so you're doing well. People usually just call that one the 'Creepy Instrumental Thing'.”

Bilbo smiled. “Well, it's hard to blame them – it comes by the creepiness naturally. I didn't think a rock band would use classical music, so I wasn't expecting anything like that.”

“You didn't know what our music was like before you came?” Durin sounded affronted. Kili elbowed Fili, who'd already turned towards them. They were looking back and forth between Durin and Bilbo and grinning for some reason; they reminded Bilbo of Merry and Pippin when they were planning something particularly disruptive.

Before he could answer, Frodo laughed. “Oh no,” he said, “Uncle Bilbo doesn't listen to modern stuff. Just old music, like –“ he paused, waving his hands around, “um, Pink Floyd and Beethoven and what's that composer's name, Bilbo, that you like? The one with the bells?”

“Mike Oldfield?” Bilbo glanced at Durin, who'd spoken just a heartbeat before he did. 

Frodo shrugged. “Sure, I guess. I don't know his name, but Bilbo plays him all the time. Except when he's baking, then he usually plays something with words. He really likes the _Wicked_ soundtrack.”

Bilbo covered his face with one hand. “Oookay,” he said, “I think it's time we moved on. There are still people in line and we can't monopolize your time.” He shook his head sharply at Pippin's groan and turned to Durin, extending his hand. “It was very nice to meet you.”

Durin looked from his hand to his face, his brows rising slowly. Then he grasped Bilbo's hand and held it between both of his, just for a heartbeat, before bowing slightly and saying in his hoarse voice, “The pleasure was all mine.”

There was a slight choked-off noise from where Frodo and the rest were standing, so Bilbo pulled his hand back and turned away from Durin's odd expression. 

“All right, kids, time to go. Don't look like that, Merry – you were so excited about the food. Never tell me you're not hungry anymore?”

As he walked past the guitarists, the blond tapped him on the shoulder. “It really was nice to meet you,” he said. “Your kids are great.” He was smiling, but there was something Bilbo couldn't place in his expression, something highly amused out of context with having just met a group of over-enthusiastic teenagers.

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, “but they're not mine.” He heard Sam shout and turned to see him holding Pippin, who appeared to be trying to climb something just past the door to the second room. “Sorry,” he said, “I've got to go. It was a pleasure – your music is very nice.”

Once he got to Sam and the others, they'd settled down and were talking about how great Kili and Fili were. Merry even seemed to think that they should start a band of their own, which made Bilbo laugh.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and the boys make more friends.

The second room was larger than the first, but it was still crowded with the other guests. Bilbo assumed it was one of the clubs private rooms; it was much more brightly lit than the room they'd met the band in, with small tables and chairs scattered about. Along the back wall were several small alcoves with drawn back curtains. Right now they held the tables of food and beverages, but Bilbo assumed they were usually for more private meetings. 

The other guests were standing in small clumps – Bilbo couldn't tell if people were only talking to those they'd come with, or if everyone was enough of a fan to talk to strangers – but the tables were large enough for unrelated parties to share them. He saw a couple of empty ones in the far corner and nodded to himself.

“Okay kids,” he said. “You can go get food – NO, Pip, not yet.” Sam grabbed Pippin and, grinning, held him in a friendly headlock. “Thank you, Sam, that's very useful. Don't forget to let him breathe.” He shook his head at their silliness. “You can each have one plate and _one plate only_ , and piled no higher than two inches. One glass or can of soda only each.” He eyed them sternly. “This is not a place for your crazier antics, so keep it down. And no throwing anything. Especially food.”

Merry rolled his eyes, but they all nodded in agreement.

“When you've got the food, come meet me at that table over there.” He pointed in the direction of the empty tables he'd seen, then laughed as the four teenagers swarmed past him to the food. Shaking his head, he started toward the table he'd pointed out.

“Do you always control how much they eat?” growled a voice just behind him just as he reached the table.

He jumped and turned around. The giant bouncer from the front door was standing behind him, fists propped on his hips. His expression was dark and his eyebrows were drawn together over his blue eyes.

Bilbo tipped his head to one side. “I don't see how it's any of your business, honestly, but yes, since they're perfectly capable of eating everything on at least one of those tables, and then 'accidentally' getting into a food fight with the rest, I believe that strict instruction can do a teenage boy good.” 

Just then there was a commotion at the nearest buffet table and they could just barely hear Sam's voice saying, “And _what_ did Mr Baggins say about throwing food?” 

Bilbo sank into the nearest chair, sighing. “As I was saying – “ he paused and looked up at the bouncer. “They're just looking for trouble, so I've found it wise to try to be at least a half step ahead of them.”

A hearty laugh came from behind the bouncer, who now looked slightly sheepish. “Oh, don't mind Dwalin here,” said a large man with a wild bush of red hair. Bilbo realized with a slight shock that it was the bass guitarist from the band. He was carrying a very full plate of food and a beer bottle dangled from the fingers of the hand supporting the plate. He slapped the bouncer – Dwalin, Bilbo assumed – on the back with his free hand hard enough to make the man stagger, then dropped into a chair at the table.

“He doesn't have kids, and he doesn't remember how much food he and Thorin used to be able to put away when they were teenagers.” He took a large bite from what appeared to be half a roast chicken, then grinned at Bilbo. “I've got a boy, myself, so I know what you're going through.” He chewed industriously, swallowed, and stuck out his hand. “Gloin Grakung, at your service.” He put one hand over his chest and half-bowed in the seat. 

Bilbo blinked. “Bilbo Baggins, at yours.” 

“My wife and I were sometimes at our wits end with just the one boy, I'm impressed you do so well with four. Especially so close in age.” Gloin was working his way through his plateful of food, but he spared another grin when Dwalin collapsed into the chair at his side.

Bilbo sighed. This seemed like the assumption of the evening. “They're not mine, not really. The one with the dark hair, he's my nephew. His parents are away on vacation and his school's near my house, so he's staying with me. The rest of them are his friends. Or advance guard, I'm never sure which.” He saw the four of them winding their way through the crowd toward their table and caught the moment Sam realized who else was sitting there. His eyes widened and he nudged Pippin in the back. As Bilbo watched, Pippin missed Gloin, but saw Dwalin and blanched.

Gloin had followed Bilbo's look and snorted. “They've met Dwalin, I see.”

Bilbo nodded. “Yup. Ran into him when we came in. By which I mean the rascal wasn't looking where he was going and bumped right into him.”

The four boys settled into seats on the other side of the table and Bilbo could see that Merry was trying to hide something in his lap. He started to stand, but to his suprise, Dwalin was already up.

“Here, lad, give it over.” He held out a tattooed hand and Merry sighed, producing a can of beer. “I distinctly heard Mr Baggins – “

“Professor,” said Frodo.

“What?” 

“He's _Professor_ Baggins, actually.” Frodo's expression was challenging.

Dwalin tilted his head. “Professor Baggins said you were to have soda only, and I know you're underage, so give it here.”

Merry shot Bilbo a look, but Bilbo just finished standing up and said calmly, “You appear to have things well in hand here, Dwalin. I'll just go see if there's anything I'd like to eat.” He smiled at Merry's downcast face as Dwalin cracked open the beer can and took a long swig. “Is there anything I can get for you, Dwalin?”

Dwalin looked up at him, his face entirely friendly now. “Nah, but thanks. I should really be keeping an eye on the rest of the party.” He stood and grinned toothily at the teenagers. “Thanks for the beer, kid.”

Bilbo laughed as he followed Dwalin away from the table. While he was standing at the buffet table, Dwalin stood next to him and tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Sorry about what I said back there.”

Bilbo huffed. “What, about telling the boys exactly what to eat? No worries – it does sound odd until you've actually met them. They're the worst sort of rules lawyers I've ever met. If you're not explicit and careful, they exploit every loophole.” He scooped some cucumber salad onto his plate and set some chicken drumettes on top of it. “Luckily for me, Frodo enjoys their friendship without being particularly influenced by their behavior.”

Half an hour later, back at the table, he pushed his empty plate away from himself and watched the way Frodo leaned against Sam as they argued with Merry and Pip about something they'd done in their latest role-playing adventure. Smiling slightly, he took out his phone and angled it so he could get a photo of them without drawing attention to himself. Gloin, who not only hadn't left the table but was embroiled in the discussion about whether or not elves or dwarves were better for a raiding party, caught his eye and winked.

“So this is where you've been hiding!” A big figure fell into the chair on the other side of Gloin and he laughed. “Trust you to find the table with the gamers.” Bilbo glanced over and saw that it was the percussionist, the one with the mixed black and white braids. He laughed at something Gloin said then he leaned forward and said to Bilbo, “He and his son are into all the wild adventure games. I think they'd join the SCA if they had time.” He turned back to Gloin. “Gimli is how old, now? He's in college, but I can't remember if it's his third year or fourth.”

Gloin beamed. “He's just started his third year.” He turned to Bilbo. “Gimli, my son, he's going to be an engineer. We're thinking he'll follow after Thorin and be a metallurgical engineer.” He grinned at Bilbo. “At least he'll have a job he can fall back on, unlike us old folks who're only employed as long as people are willing to listen to us.”

Beside him, the drummer snorted. “You've invested your money so well you wouldn't have to earn another dime for the rest of your life.” He leaned around Gloin to look at Bilbo again. “Don't believe anything this old goat's been telling you. Except that he loves his family.” His eyes fell on Bilbo's pocket and his eyes widened. “Hey, is that _Deathless?_?”

“What?” Bilbo stared at him.

The guitarist raised his eyebrows and pointed to Bilbo's pocket. “I know everything I ever carved and that's Deathless.”

Bilbo pressed his hand to his chest and laughed, suddenly remembering the wooden dwarf he'd brought along. “Right, yes,” he said, pulling the carving out and holding it. “Bofur said that was his name. I don't even know why I brought him along. Or why I even have him.” He held the dwarf out to the drummer. “Did you want him back?” 

Across the table, Frodo said, “He got more than that! He got this tiny little guy, too, and and elf, and a funny little hill house thing.” He rubbed his nose. “You carved him?”

“Bifur Förskärare, master toymaker, at your service.” He half bowed in his chair, and gently lifted Deathless out of Bilbo's hand. Bilbo let his hand fall back into his lap, trying to ignore the feeling of loss at not having the carving with him. _It's just a little wooden toy._ His left hand, on the table, clenched and he deliberately spread the fingers out.

Bifur's dark eyes were on him, not on the toy resting in his palm. After a moment, he said, “I see why Bofur gave him to you.” He picked up Bilbo's hand and, placing Deathless in the center of his palm, wrapped Bilbo's fingers around the toy. “Keep him close by – he'll do you good.” His smile twisted slightly. “It'll do him good as well.”

Just then a commotion across the room made them all turn around. Bilbo couldn't see what was going on through the crowd of people, but Gloin and Bifur both groaned. 

“Alright,” Gloin said, pushing away from the table, “time to join the fray.” He turned to Bilbo. “It was a true pleasure to meet you and your family. If you ever – “ He broke off as a staff member rushed up to them, her face harried. “Yes, I'm coming,” he sighed. “Thanks,” he said to Bilbo, gesturing at the boys. “This has been a much nicer after-show conversation than usual. It's nice to meet kids who're interested in talking about something other than,” he paused and coughed slightly. “Well, other than what they think the 'side benefits' are of being a rock star.”

He nodded at Bilbo and strode off towards the noisy crowd. Bifur stood more slowly, saying something under his breath to the staff member, who crossed her arms and shook her head. 

“Sir,” she said, “I have to have you over with the rest of the band. It's time for the photographs and everyone has to be there.”

Bifur snorted, then smiled at Bilbo. “It was, as Gloin said, a pleasure to meet you and your pack of teenagers. Don't forget to tell my cousin how Deathless does in your house. We do like to know our creations are having happy lives.” He shook Bilbo's hand then gestured for the anxious woman to go ahead of him. Beyond them, Bilbo could just see Durin and his nephews. Durin was looking around the room and glowering.

“Did she say it's time for pictures?” Sam leaned forward over the table. “Because it would be really cool to have a picture of all of us with the band.”

Bilbo laughed. “Go on, then. I'll stay here, where it's safe. Come back when you're done, okay?”


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes pictures show something other than what one expects.

The next morning, Bilbo told the boys that they could do whatever they wanted - within reason - while he worked in his office, but that he'd be out to help deal with lunch. He pretended not to hear what Merry and Pippin were loudly discussing they wanted to look up online; he knew from previous overnight stays that no matter what they said they'd do, they'd end up playing a video game or crawling through some dungeon or another in their role-playing game.

He stopped into the kitchen for a big cup of coffee, then closed his office door behind him with a happy sigh. 

He set his cup down on the knitted coaster next to his computer, opened his writing program, settled back in his chair and reached for his phone to set the timer. Without the timer, he wouldn't stop writing until his fingers cramped. 

His phone wasn't in his pocket. It wasn't on his night table, nor was it near the coffee machine in the kitchen. It hadn't fallen out of his pocket in his car, and it wasn't in any of the bags he and the boys had brought home from the concert.

“When was the last time you used it?” Sam was always reasonable.

Bilbo ran a hand through his hair. “At the table in the club,” he said after a moment's thought. “I took a picture of you arguing with the guitarist about dwarves.”

“Elves are just better –“ started Pippin, but Merry elbowed him. 

“Not now,” he said, “we're trying to help the professor.” Beside him, Sam shook his head. 

Bilbo sighed. “Thanks kids,” he said. “I'll call the radio station and … or maybe the club. Damn.”

“How're you going to call? You lost your phone.” Merry's face twisted with confusion and Bilbo laughed. 

“I have a house phone. I'll use that.” He pointed to the small portable phone set on the hall table. “I know I'm impossibly old, but we elderly people do still have _some_ resources.”

The receptionist at the radio station didn't know if anyone had turned anything in, but he said he'd pass the question on to the event organizers. When Bilbo asked if he should call the club, the receptionist audibly brightened and agreed that they might have their own Lost and Found. He read out the number for the club office and took down Bilbo's email address so the radio station could contact him with any information they had. Bilbo called the club; it was too early for anyone to have come in, so he left a message in the voice recording system.

Then he sat at his computer and sighed. After an hour or more spent chasing after his phone and making calls, he knew he wouldn't be able to write. Grunting in frustration, he pulled his satchel out and fished around in it for the quizzes he had to grade. At least this way he could return them to the class on Monday; it would stop half of his students from sending him worried emails during the week.

He tried to write again that evening, using his kitchen timer, but the ticking sound kept him from concentrating. After ten frustrating minutes, he gave up. In the living room, the bag with the carved toys caught his eye. 

“Ah,” he said. “Let's see where those can go.” 

They looked silly spread out on the couch, and were in the way of where he put his feet on the coffee table. He stood, the little hill-house in his hands and looked at the living room. The walls were a soft sage green, with photographs he'd taken on trips up and down the coast alternating with his mother's paintings of the hills and forests around Hobbiton. The dark brown leather couch was draped with his grandmother's crocheted afghan and the side table had two old coffee cups standing on lace doilies his father had crocheted.

 _No room there._ He continued turning, passing over the over-stuffed bookshelves and finally staring at the big picture window. It was one of the reasons he'd loved the house when he first saw it. The window was a broad oval instead of the traditional rectangle, with a wide sill that wasn't quite wide enough for him to sit on and read, but was easily wide enough for him to put decorations and to fill with the interesting antiques he picked up on work trips.

“Well,” he said to the elf standing on the coffee table, appearing to be getting ready to shoot the potted plant on the other side of the table. “I guess you guys will be going in the window. At least there you'll be able to look outside.”

It took half an hour to get everything situated in a way that pleased him. The elf stood guard over the house in the hill, with the dragon perched down the sill on a pile of books about the history of mining. The little man fitted nicely in the space between the house and the window, as if he were watching the neighborhood.

Bilbo ended up with Deathless in his hand, not at all sure where he should go. After trying him out in several places (he kept falling over when near the dragon, and there wasn't enough room near the window), Bilbo finally shrugged and brought the little dwarf to his bedroom, where he stood quite calmly on his night table.

“Okay,” Bilbo said, his hands propped on his hips, staring at the dwarf, who was looking suspiciously at his alarm clock. “I guess it's time to go make tarts for dessert.”

* * *

The next morning he had an email from Legolas saying that his phone had been found at the club and he could come and pick it up at the radio station office downtown. Bilbo emailed his publicist to set up an appointment for the early afternoon, then sent a response to Legolas saying he could swing by in the late afternoon. 

“Hey FRODO,” he shouted down the hall. “Time for you and Sam to go to school.” He listened for signs of life, then shrugged. “I've left breakfast for you on the table.”

His got to his morning lab early enough to get the students' quizzes stuck into their lab cabinets and get the equipment for this week's student experiment set up. He only reached for his phone twice during the lab; each time he felt a little silly for forgetting that Legolas had it. 

In the hour and a half gap between lab and lecture, he took the latest stack of lab reports to his office. He checked his email – just something from his cousin Rosa about Frodo's parents' schedule – and started reading over the reports his graduate students had sent him over the weekend. 

The sound of the door closing was the first warning he had that he was about to be interrupted.

“Bilbo, you sly dog!” 

Bilbo looked up, confused. “What? Lobelia, what are you talking about?” He rubbed his eyes and stood to get a cup of coffee from the machine in the corner of the office.

She sat down at her desk and smirked at him. “You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. I had no idea you had it in you!”

Bilbo sighed. “No, Lobelia, I don't. I've spent the whole weekend with Frodo and his friends, and I didn't even get to do any writing on Sunday because I've lost my phone.” He poked irritatedly at the buttons on the coffee machine. “If you think I've done something improper with Frodo's friends, you're crazier than your students think you are.”

She leaned back in her chair, the smirk fading from her face. “You really don't... okay, come here. Take a look at this.” She pulled her laptop from her bag and opened it.

“Oh god, what _now_?” he moaned, but obediently sat at the low chair she kept for her students. None of the chair legs were the same length so the chair wouldn't stand still no matter what anyone did. When he'd mentioned it to her two years ago, she'd laughed and admitted she'd sanded the legs down herself. At his reaction, she'd snorted. “Why would I want the students to be comfortable? I want them to learn on their own, not come to me expecting me to do their work for them.”

Now he just sat balancing carefully and cradling his coffee cup as she flicked through her open tabs. “Ah,” she said. “Here we are.” She turned the screen towards him. It was filled with pictures from the summer concert. 

He looked at them, then at her, eyebrows raised. “Yes? I was there – it was heaving with people. I still don't...” He trailed off as she shook her head. 

“Oh for –“ she snapped and turned the screen back. “That's the wrong page. Here we are.” Two more clicks and he could see that this was a page of photos taken at the evening Meet and Greet. When she clicked so he could see the images full size, he blinked. The person who'd been standing behind the band members hadn't been a handler – he had been a photographer. 

Lobelia stopped the slideshow at the first picture of him and the boys. “You look totally stressed out – what were they saying?” 

He groaned. “Oh, Pippin managed to say something vaguely insulting – you know him. He only opens his mouth to switch feet.” She snorted again and clicked to show the next image. In this one, he was standing next to Durin, who was staring at him. Lobelia sent Bilbo a look, then clicked on the next one, in which Durin was bent over Bilbo's hand, clasped between both of his. The next photograph was from just a second later; Durin had stood up slightly and was looking directly into Bilbo's face. His expression was intense – his eyes nearly glowed in the gold light of the club and his lips were slightly parted.

“There, see?” she crowed. “What _did_ he say to you? Never mind that, what did you say to _him_?” At his flabbergasted expression, she started laughing.

Bilbo sighed. “He's a singer, he has to talk to a million people after every concert. Why do you think it's such a big deal that he shook my hand. Or,” he hesitated, looking at the picture again, “whatever he was doing.”

Lobelia leaned back in her chair watching him. “So,” she said. “Tell me about the concert.”

“There isn't much to tell. The concert was better than I expected. It was loud, but –“ she laughed and he glowered at her. “They played some songs that aren't on the new album, but I liked most of them. Hey, did you know they do one based on _Hall of the Mountain King_?”

She nodded. “I think they call it their Anti-Disney Dwarf song.”

Bilbo laughed. “I can see that. After the show, the rest of them were nice. He, Durin, was snappish,” Bilbo said, “but I've no idea why he'd be angry with me.” He drained the last of his coffee and stood to get another cup. “And I left my phone at the club so I have to go back to the radio station to get it.”

“Okay, so Thorin Durin wasn't very friendly. No surprise there, he's got a reputation for being rather standoffish. At best. But was he, you know...” she waggled her eyebrows. “Is he as hot in person as he is on camera?”

Bilbo sank back down into the chair cradling his second cup of coffee. “Yes,” he sighed. “Hotter.” At her chuckle, he blushed. “Okay yes, he's hotter than the sun. But it's like meeting a character from a book, there's something sort of not-real about people like that.” He paused. “No, I guess that's not really fair either. The bass guitarist, um, with all the red hair?”

“The Grey King?” 

“Is that his name? I thought he said something else. Anyway,” Bilbo waved a hand dismissively. “He spent more than half an hour arguing happily with Frodo and Pip about whether or not dwarves or elves were better for raiding parties in that role playing game they like. And the drummer carves little wooden things in his spare time.”

“Gloin Grakung plays role playing games?” Her face filled with delight. “That's something no one ever mentions.”

He glared at her. “Then you shouldn't either. But it's … they _are_ real people, even if they're celebrities. It's odd. Until you meet them, it seems like they're not really people, you know?” He ran a hand over his face. “That sounded awful. I mean, all you ever see is them pretending, or in some manufactured situation, so they sort of … aren't real.”

Lobelia nodded. “Most of them seem like they wouldn't be very nice to know, and even the ones who seem nice are actors, or professionally public, so who can tell if they're being honest or not?”

“Exactly. But, the other two guitarists – the younger ones? They seemed honestly friendly, even though they'll never see any of the people they met on Saturday again.” He looked at his watch. “Damn, I've got to run down to the lab – I have some questions about that last set of aryl compounds. I don't think they're turning out quite right and I want to have a set of controls run to make sure that we've not contaminated the damned samples again.”

“Tell him I say hello.” Her smile was edged.

“Right.” Bilbo packed his files back into his bag and swung it over his shoulder. “I don't think he'll ever forgive you for taking the silver he was using, so stop trying to make him angry, okay? We have to work together and your snarking at him isn't making things any easier.” He sighed. “How's Otho, anyway?”

She turned away and he knew that her bad mood was most likely due to her on-and-off relationship with Otho. “Oh, he's okay,” she said lightly, closing the windows with the pictures from the concert. “He was busy this weekend, so we couldn't get together.”

“Oh Lobelia,” Bilbo sighed. “Would you like to come to dinner this week to talk about it?”

“What's to talk about?” she snapped. “He's just a jerk who can't stand up to his family is all.” At Bilbo's raised brows, she deflated slightly. “Fine, I'll come to dinner.”

“Good. Now take another look at Durin's naked chest and imagine him bending over _your_ hand instead of mine and you'll feel much better, I'm sure.” He left to the sound of her laughter.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Always password lock your phone.

Two floors down, he unlocked a door with several silly chemistry jokes taped to it. “Hey, Ori? I was looking at the reports you emailed me and I think we've got a problem.”

His graduate student looked up from the lab bench. The sunlight from the banks of windows shone directly on his dark brown skin and made his crisp white lab coat blinding; the light shone through the liquid in one of the beakers on the bench, making a faint rainbow. The stacked collection of bent glass tubes traveled halfway along one stone lab bench, with two bunsen burners and a scattered collection of other tools shoved into a rough pile next to a ceramic cup of coffee. Ori had set aside his fingerless mitts and a pile of fluffy orange yarn while he adjusted the glassware. 

“Yeah,” he said, “I don't see why it's not working this time. It was fine before.” He scowled at the tower of glass.

Bilbo sat across the lab bench from him and opened the folder. “The problem seems to be here,” he tapped a set of chemical diagrams, “but I'm not sure what's causing it. Show me again what you're doing?” 

Half an hour later, Bilbo checked his watch. “I've got a meeting with your brother – want me to tell him anything?”

Ori looked up. “Nori? Yeah, actually, can you ask him when he's coming for dinner?”

Bilbo smiled. “Sure. Anything else?”

“Tell him that he's got to get fitted for his sweater.” 

“In that orange?”

Ori laughed. “No, that's a baby sweater for a friend. Bright, isn't it?” He tugged at the knitting until was flat. The pile turned into a cute little sweater with a lacy yoke and a plain body. “It's almost done but I have more of the yarn, so I'm going to make a hat and booties.” He turned the ball of yarn over. “I might make a blanket if I've got time.”

Bilbo drew the strap of his bag up over his shoulder. “Good luck with that. When's the baby due?”

Ori closed his eyes, thinking. “In December, I think, so I've three months. I can get it done by then; baby blankets don't have to be very big.” He looked back down at the sweater. “I should probably pick a different color, though.”

Bilbo laughed. “Maybe. I kind of like the bright. You could always give it a dark border. Email me when you've got the new set up ready and we'll start the runs, okay?” 

Later, Bilbo sat in the heavy afternoon traffic on the bridge and stared out the car window at the afternoon sun slanting through the tall buildings of downtown. The strains of Elgar's Variations faded to a commercial on the radio. Bilbo caught himself humming one of the songs from the concert. When he realized what he was humming, he chuckled. 

“What was that radio station?” He poked the radio memory button that Frodo had programmed as soon as he'd come to stay, and jerked back as something extremely loud poured from the speakers. After a moment fiddling with the volume control, he sat back, driving carefully in the now moving traffic. He didn't recognize any of the songs playing, but it amused him to be listening to something so different.

Nori met Bilbo at the reception desk of his publishing firm. “You're a popular man,” he said, as they walked back through the offices to his large one at the back. “I hear you've been meeting important people.” His office had wide windows overlooking part of downtown with a view of the Bay; a luxurious sitting area filled half the room while a heavy wooden desk dominated the space in front of the window. As they entered the room, Nori walked to a credenza against one of the walls and poured hot water from a kettle into a tea pot. 

“What?” Bilbo dropped into one of the comfortable chairs at the side of Nori's office. He pulled a folder out of his bag and set it on the table next to the chair. “I've no idea what you're talking about.”

Nori laughed, teeth gleaming white against his skin. “You nearly met my brother.”

Bilbo turned and stared at him. “Nori, of course I've met your brother, he's one of my graduate students. Oh, and he says you're supposed to be coming by for a sweater fitting. I hope he's not going to make you wear something in the orange he's using for the baby sweater, though.”

“Baby... Oh right, Aunty Frida is expecting again.” Nori brought a tray with the teapot, two cups, and a small mountain of cookies and carefully slid it onto the table. “No, I mean my other brother.”

Bilbo paused, holding the teapot over his cup but not quite pouring. “Other brother? You have more brothers than Ori?” 

“I do,” Nori said, leaning back and nodding at Bilbo's still frozen hands. “Come on, pour already. I want a cup of tea and the latest news about Helm Hammerhand and Wulf.”

Bilbo startled, then poured his tea and chose a cookie. “I'm still not sure how I'm going to get them where I need them, and I think I've got an idea for two more books in this universe. But what do you mean that I almost met your other brother?”

Nori smirked over the rim of his cup. “You were at the Erebor concert last weekend.”

Bilbo sighed. “Yes, Frodo won tickets and so I had to go, but how did you know? Why? Was your brother there?”

Nori blinked at him for a moment, then laughed. “My brother's _in_ Erebor. He's the keyboardist.” He took another cookie and looked at it contemplatively. “Apparently you made quite an impression.”

“The keyboardist...? OH, oh the one with the magnificent braids? He's your brother?” 

“And why is that surprising?”

“Just, well.” Bilbo thought for a moment. There was something he couldn't quite remember. “Right! I have their album – oh don't look so shocked, I bought it so I could hear the music before the concert.”

Nori nodded, face grave but eyes dancing. “Like homework.”

Bilbo eyed him, sure he was being teased. “Yes, actually. It's polite.” He took a sip of his tea. “So, I looked at the cover information when the disc arrived and I didn't see your name.”

Nori smiled. “I'd forgotten he'd done that. Yeah, he goes by Queenson for the band. It's what our name means, mostly.”

“Huh. And anyway, I didn't even come close to meeting him – he was on stage and I was up on top of some tricked out RV watching from afar. He didn't even come to the thing after.” He crossed his legs and and leaned back. “Which must be how you know I was there at all.”

Nori nodded. “Guilty as charged. But why didn't you say you liked them?”

“I don't. I mean,” Bilbo shook his head. “I hadn't even heard of them until Frodo won the tickets. I like the music now that I've heard it.”

Nori chuckled. “It isn't your usual style, that's true. They don't do much in Baroque chamber music. So, you liked them? What did you think of the men in the band?”

“In the band? Oh, they were nice. The red head spent a lot of time talking to Frodo and his friends about role playing games.” He drank the last of his tea. “And I liked the one with the mixed grey and black hair, the carver. I don't remember his name.”

“Bifur,” sad Nori. He set his teacup aside. “You met the others, right?”

“Apparently not all of them, since I missed your brother. Why are you asking? I mean, I like their music, and I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to meet your brother, but it's not like I'm ever going to meet them again.”

Nori looked at him, gaze steady. “True. So, let's see what you have for me. You said something about two more books?”

* * *

The radio station office was close enough to Nori's office for Bilbo to walk. He enjoyed being surrounded by all the strangers bustling about involved in their own lives; it felt like a chance to see how the rest of the world was getting on. He knew that he spent a lot of time surrounded by people focused on a very small part of the world and he appreciated the chance to avoid narrowing his point of view.

The sun was low enough to send shafts of brilliant late summer yellow through the tall buildings, making the side streets look like modern versions of renaissance paintings. Bilbo smiled at the image of the Olde Masters standing in the middle of Market Street, cars swerving around them and oil paints going everywhere.

Inside the radio station building, he was directed up to the Event Planning department on the fourth floor. The reception area outside the elevator was comfortably furnished with plush couches and a large window looking directly across the street into the windows of a small restauarant. A dark haired man sat head down on a leather side chair, reading a book. 

“Bilbo!” The receptionist called, and Bilbo looked at her, smiling to see the red haired woman from the concert.

“Oh! Tauriel, right? It's nice to see you again.” He leaned on her desk. “So, they sent me up here – I left my phone at the club Saturday night.”

“Yes, I know.” She sat forward in her chair. “How was the rest of your weekend? Did the kids let you get any rest?”

He laughed. “I just make sure they're not going to set the house on fire and let them get to it, really. They're not bad kids, just...” he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Just kids, you know? They'll settle down when they finish growing up. It seems like there are so few places where kids can try things out.”

She smiled up at him. “Not like when you were a kid?”

He drew himself up to his full height and lowered his voice. “I'll have you know, whippersnapper, that when I was a child, we were allowed to blow up whole houses in between walking to school uphill in the snow in both directions.”

She laughed. “Of course you were!”

“Now,” he continued, in his normal tone, “about my phone?”

“Oh yes, the phone.” She gestured toward the man in the reception area. His head was still bent, but he'd stuck his finger into the book to hold his page and was leaning forward, clearly having been listening to the conversation. “The people who found it wanted to make sure it got directly back to you, so they sent a representative to ensure you got it.” She seemed amused at something, but Bilbo couldn't think of what she found funny.

He leaned forward over the desk. “Did they think you weren't trustworthy?” he whispered.

She shook her head, eyes sparkling. “No, but … well.” Her eyes shifted to the delivery man. “I think they just wanted to be very careful.”

Bilbo turned to the deliveryman and stopped. He could see the title of the book the man was reading: _Rhovanion_. For one moment, he couldn't move. He'd never met someone who was just reading his book; he'd done a very short book signing tour, but everyone at the readings had been there to meet him so the fact that they all had a copy of his book was to be expected. This was his first sighting in the wild, so to speak.

In the silence, the delivery man stood up and walked to stand in front of Bilbo. When he lifted his head, Bilbo's breath caught. 

“Mr Durin,” he said.

“Mr Baggins.” Durin stood tightly, his arms crossed over his chest. Then his face twisted and he dropped his arms. “I'm sorry, I mean - Professor Baggins.”

Bilbo chuckled. “Oh, please, call me Bilbo. You've rescued my phone, and you're not one of my students. Or one of the idiots from paid peer review journals. There's no need to be formal.”

Durin pressed one hand to his chest and gave a short half bow. “Thorin, at your service.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out Bilbo's phone. “And here's your phone.”

Bilbo swiped his thumb across it and started laughing. He turned the screen around to face Thorin. “I see someone else had it first?” The background picture was of Fili and Kili, grinning broadly into the camera. 

A sheepish expression passed over Thorin's face. “Ah yes. Lock your phone. It's not safe without a password.” He paused, cleared his throat, and continued. “I mean, they said to tell you that you should lock your phone.”

Bilbo shook his head at the silly picture. “Frodo says so as well, but I'm afraid I'll forget the password.” There was a quiet moment and Bilbo dropped the phone into his bag. _Should I ask?_ “What do you think of the book?”

Thorin jumped. “The book?” He glanced down. “I'm enjoying it – have you read it? I've only got to the part where –“ He broke off. “ _Have_ you read it? I shouldn't like to give anything away, if you haven't.” He looked at Bilbo, blue eyes bright. 

Bilbo spent a moment trying not to laugh. “I, erm, I've read it, yes. Thanks, though, for being careful. But you like it?”

“Yes, although I'm not sure that it was entirely wise to anger the Dwarves so.” He shrugged. “It seems bad strategy to piss off one of the most well-armed groups in the area.”

Bilbo smiled up at him. “No, I'd say that 'Never Piss Off A Dwarf' is probably a good policy.” 

“I'm enjoying the way the story follows the whole … culture, not just one person or family. It's interesting – sort of like reading a history book about a foreign country.” Thorin shifted on his feet. As Thorin spoke, Bilbo noticed that his voice wasn't as hoarse as it had been after the show. _Maybe it was just strained from the singing. He does sound nice._ “What did you think?” 

“What do I – oh.” Bilbo rubbed his nose. “I grew up reading histories and such, so that part's a bonus for me.”

Behind them, Tauriel coughed. “I'm sorry to do this, boys, but I'm going home, so you're going to have to move the book club.”

Bilbo chuckled. “It's time I got home as well. I've a starving nephew to feed, after all.” 

As they stood at the elevator, Thorin crossed and uncrossed his arms, finally shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Your nephew is still very young,” he said to the elevator doors as they slid open. “Have you thought of having children of your own?”

Bilbo coughed. “I – erm. I don't know anyone I'd have children with.” He took a deep breath. “And I'd have to adopt. I'm gay.” 

Thorin, inexplicably, brightened, and turned to face him. “Ah. Well, that would make it …” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I'd love to know what you thought of _Rhovanion _. Perhaps we could exchange email addresses and discuss it?”__


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching talk shows can really help a person keep up with the news.

The following Friday, Bilbo came home from the university, dropped his bag in his office and went to the kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker and stood over it, listening to the heating water chuckle in the silence of the house. The hiss of the boiling water releasing into the coffee grounds slowly changed to the sound of fresh coffee filling his favorite cup. He sat sipping the coffee at the table, staring blankly into out the window into the back garden.

“Well,” he said aloud, draining the last drops from the cup and pushing up from the seat. “This week sucked. The kids can wait until Sunday to get their results. I am taking a fucking day off.” He rubbed the back of his neck and walked into the living room. 

“Not _Producers_ , or _Fiddler_ ,” he muttered, shuffling through the iPod he had attached to the stereo system. He stopped after a moment and smiled. “Yes, exactly. Perfect.” 

Back in the kitchen, he started to sing along as the group of men on the train complained about the difficulties of life as a travelling salesman. He opened the cabinet with the baking ingredients. “Should I start with chocolate chip cookies? No,” he decided. “I think it's time I made more bread.” He pulled down his largest glass bowl and started rummaging around for the cup measures. Bread would fill the rest of the afternoon quite nicely. 

Later, the front door slammed and he heard steps thumping through the house. “Bilbo? Have you heard from Mom and Dad recently?” Frodo leaned into the kitchen on his way to his room. “Because I haven't. Oh hey, fresh bread!”

Bilbo looked up from the chemistry journal he was reading while standing next to a pot of boiling pasta. “What? Oh.” He rubbed his eyes. “I'm sorry Frodo, I haven't checked my personal email all week. Let me finish this off and stick it into the oven and I'll go check, okay?”

Frodo nodded. “Is that tetrazzini? Why is it called four zini?”

“Four zini?” Bilbo snorted. “It's named after an opera singer. I can play some of her, if you like. There aren't a lot of recordings –“

Frodo was rummaging in the fridge. “Can't you just look her up on You Tube?” He came out with a carrot and a pot of hummus. 

“There might be something of her there, but she's old.” At Frodo's rolled eyes, Bilbo smiled. “No, I mean she was born in 1862.”

“Oh. That's old.”

Bilbo laughed. “Anyway, let me put this all together and get it into the oven and I'll check to see if I've got an email from them.”

At his desk, Bilbo opened Gmail. His school email opened first and he groaned as the emails from students filled the page. “Not looking at you,” he said and opened his personal email.

There were three emails from Thorin. One from Monday, sent half an hour after they'd left the radio station, and then two on Wednesday. Bilbo started to click on them, but then stopped himself. _Let's see if Drogo and Prim have sent something first._ He scrolled past the few advertising emails and finally stopped, clicking on an email from Frodo's parents.

“Hey, Frodo,” he yelled. “Come here. I've an email from your mother. She says you should expect - “ He turned at a noise from the door, and broke off. “Oh, there you are. I don't know why you didn't get a copy, it's clearly cc'd to you as well. Want me to read it to you or should I just forward it?”

At the door, Frodo nodded. His backpack drooped from one shoulder and his mouth was full; he held a plate with several warm cookies and a thick slice of the fresh bread covered in blackberry jam. Bilbo laughed and clicked the forward button. 

“There you go,” he said.

Frodo swallowed and said, “Thanks. I've got classwork but it's not due until Tuesday and I'm tired. I'm going to read the next book with that super short space captain. Sam might come over, we haven't decided.” He hitched his pack higher on his shoulder and wandered down the hallway.

Bilbo turned back to his computer. “Now let's see what Thorin has to say about my book,” Bilbo whispered, and opened Thorin's first email.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Bilbo,_

_I've only just got past the bit where they kill Scatha. I really don't think it's a good idea for Fram to have refused to share with the Dwarves, for surely they made much of what Scatha was hoarding. Doesn't he know anything about how to foster good relations with ones neighbors? It just doesn't make sense._

_Except it does, doesn't it? Kings in history always seem to be doing particularly idiotic things, so this isn't any worse than, say, King Richard going off to Crusade whilst leaving his grubby little brother with the crown._

_Rehersal's about to start, so I don't have time for more, but I'd love to know what you think._

_Thorin  
_

Bilbo grinned. “Killing Scatha's a great idea – who wants a cold drake hanging about?” 

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Bilbo,_

_Well, that was unexpected. Usually the magic animal in these stories are Saviors of the Clan or Signs From The Forest God or something._

_This one just killed the king for no apparent reason. Leod raised him – something surely went wrong there. None of the hand-raised horses I grew up with would have done something like that._

_How far have you read? I heard somewhere that this is the first of a trilogy. I'm looking forward to the other two._

_Thorin  
_

Bilbo rubbed his hands together. “Just how much should I say?” he said aloud. He clicked on the last email, leaning his chin in his head and smiling as he read.

__  
To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic 

_Bilbo,_

_I finished the book an hour ago. Just HOW did Eorl manage to find and tame Felarof? What kind of horse understands weregild?_

_Most books about dragonriders seem to be using the dragons as stand-ins for horses. It's interesting to see a culture that's about horses directly. Especially one which includes dragons as well._

_Do you know when the next one is coming out? Do you have any book recommendations? I'm still on tour – I'm in LA now for three days. I could pick something up at a local store, or maybe Amazon could deliver to the hotel._

_Thorin  
_

Bilbo rubbed his nose. _Do I have book recommendations?_ He hit Reply and flexed his fingers.

__  
To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins 

_Thorin,_

_I believe that the next book is coming out in six months. I read that they're publishing one a year, so there's a bit of a wait._

_I can't know what to recommend without knowing more about what you like to read. Do you only like fantasy? You mentioned dragonriders. There's a series set in an alternate Napoleonic War where people ride intelligent dragons that's very popular._

_Right now all I have time to read is school papers, so I can't be as helpful as I'd like._

Bilbo paused, suddenly aware he was offering book recommendations to the lead singer in a famous rock and roll band. “Right,” he said, “I'll just stop there.”

He signed the email and sent it, then sighed and stood up. He looked at the stack of chemistry journals and papers he needed to read and closed his eyes. _Frodo's got the right idea. Time for cookies and reading something fun._

After dinner, in flannel pajamas and his oldest and softest dressing gown, he sat in his favorite armchair with a cup of tea and a plate of cookies on the table as his elbow. He wiggled deeper into the cushions, tucked his toes under the afghan folded on the ottoman at his feet, and opened a book from Nori. 

Bilbo spent Saturday relaxing. After a late breakfast alone – Frodo was at Sam's house for the day – he spent the morning in his office with his novel. By lunchtime he was wrung out; getting the plot and characters organized was sometimes nearly as difficult as getting a chemistry lab filled with 18 year olds to follow instructions. He strolled down to the small grocery store in the little shopping area in his neighborhood in the afternoon, having decided to make enough food for the whole week, starting with lasagne for dinner that night.

After putting the lasagne in the oven, he realized that he didn't know if Frodo was staying at Sam's overnight. He laughed when he saw the smiling faces of Fili and Kili on his phone; he'd forgotten that they'd changed the background. 

_To: Frodo  
From: Bilbo_

_Hey, are you coming home for dinner?  
_

He was elbow deep into sudsy dishes when Frodo responded.

_To: Bilbo  
From: Frodo_

_OMG, I'm coming home for dinner. Sam's coming with me. We have something to show you, it's really funny!  
_

Bilbo stared at his phone, then shrugged. _Oookay, kiddo, but if it's another one of those stupid Rage Comics, I swear I'll cut off your internet access._

Dinner was amusing for Bilbo – Frodo and Sam talked over each other, describing something Sam's siblings had done, then they'd catch each others eye and look at Bilbo, and start giggling. After dinner, Frodo dragged out his laptop and made Bilbo sit in front of it. 

“Now,” he said, leaning over Bilbo to start the video. “Just watch.” He sat down next to Bilbo and grinned.

The video was from a late night talk show. The host had just finished her opening speech and was about to introduce the first guest.

“And tonight our first guest is actually a trio - _and_ our musical guest as well. Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews Fili and Kili from the band Erebor!” Thorin strode out from behind the curtain wearing a fitted black tee shirt over skin tight leather pants. The wooden belt buckle rode between his hips and Bilbo could see that it was polished so that it caught the light and flashed as he turned. He crossed his arms, then dropped them to his hips, staring out over the crowd, face held in a cold expression.

Fili and Kili came out behind him, Kili laughing at something someone backstage had said; the two of them waved enthusiastically at the audience.

The host, a short blonde woman, hugged all three men, laughing at something Fili said into her ear, then sat behind her desk and beamed at the audience.

“Erebor is on another of its extended tours – about halfway through, right?” She turned to Thorin, who was sitting in the mid-century upholstered armchair nearest her desk, while Fili and Kili were sitting together on the unmatching French style couch next to him.

Thorin nodded, but Fili leaned forward and said, “Yes. We're in Los Angeles now,” he waved as the audience yelled enthusiastically, then continued. “So right, LA now and we've still got dates in Houston and Dallas and then we start working our way up the East Coast.” 

“Wow,” she said, looking impressed, although Bilbo was sure she'd known before asking. “So, do you take breaks at all?”

Thorin crossed his legs. “Family is very important,” he said. His voice was hoarse again and Bilbo wondered if Thorin might be doing permanent damage to his vocal cords. “We always go home for Thanksgiving, no matter where we are.”

Kili laughed. “Sometimes we fly them to where we are – we had Christmas in Hawaii once.”

“Do you have a large family? Are any of you – and I know there are many in the audience who'd love to know the answer to this question – are you single?” She leaned forward, face bright.

Thorin's shoulders tightened slightly. “I am, yes,” he said, not looking into the audience, which was now shouting again. 

“I'm single as well,” Fili said, then turned to his brother and grinned widely. “But my brother here's got an arrangement, he says.”

Kili blushed, and shoved Fili against the arm of the couch. “I do,” he said, chin up. “She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, like, the stars shine in her eyes and her hair floats like petals in the wind.” He paused for a minute, eyes distant. “She's tall and slender, stronger than she looks, and she never lets anyone tell her what to do.” He waved his hands around as he described his partner.

“She sounds amazing,” said the host, brows raised. “Where did you meet her? How long have you been together?”

Kili's arms fell and he looked sulky. “She won't date me,” he said. “She says I'm too reckless.”

Thorin's hand covered his eyes, but the corners of his mouth pulled up. Fili was laughing hard enough to collapse over the couch arm.

“You _are_ reckless,” Thorin said, turned in his chair to face Kili. He was smiling, but Bilbo thought he saw real concern in his eyes. “You can't blame her for not wanting to be involved –“

“Oh, don't you start,” Kili said, face filled with glee. “Not when you were so excited to finally get a response from that guy.”

Fili sat up straight, looking from Kili to Thorin. “Oh HO! He answered you? When?” 

Thorin crossed his arms as his cheeks flushed bright red. “I'm sure this isn't what we're here to discuss,” he said.

“No, do go on,” the host said. Her chin was propped in one hand; she looked hugely amused. “You've heard from someone important?”

Thorin sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which was loose over his shoulders. “I recently met someone who shares my taste in reading.”

Fili bit his knuckle and grinned. “Don't be coy, Uncle,” he said. “You think he's cute.”

Kili leaned around Fili to look directly at the host. “He was at the show we did in San Francisco, Summer's End, you know? And he had, I don't know, eight kids with him or something; they were great.”

Fili took over the story. “And turns out he lost his phone at the club, so Thorin got to meet him. Well,” he rubbed his fingers over his moustache, grinning, “meet him again.”

Frodo leaned forward and hit pause on the video. “So, Uncle Bilbo,” he said, voice casual. “Is there something you're not telling us?”


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confusion and gossip abound.

Bilbo stared at him, eyes and mouth wide open. “I... what?” He ran a hand over his face, glancing at the computer screen and back at Frodo. Sam, sitting next to Frodo, looked like he couldn't decide if he should be amused or disapproving. “I did talk to Thorin –“ 

“You're on a first name basis with him already? Wow.” Sam seemed impressed, but Frodo just looked smug.

Bilbo cleared his throat. “He returned my phone on Monday.”

Frodo sat up. “Wait, you said the radio station had it. You didn't tell me that you'd met anyone from Erebor.”

“I don't tell you everything that happens every day, you know,” Bilbo said. “Anyway, yes, he was waiting at the station when I got there. He had my phone and he was reading my book! I asked him what he thought and we exchanged email addresses.” 

“He was reading _your_ book? What did he say about it? Did you tell him you wrote it?” Frodo looked at Bilbo's expression and started laughing. “You _didn't!_ ”

“I wanted to know what he thought. I mean, it's not about what _he_ thinks, but …” Bilbo snorted at Frodo's rolled eyes. “I mean that I've never met anyone who's reading my book without them knowing I wrote it, so this was a chance to get an honest review.”

“The ones on Amazon aren't honest?” Frodo sounded very dry.

“It's different to talk to someone, to discuss – oh stop it.” Bilbo shook his head. “I've only sent the one email, anyway. We haven't really said much.”

Frodo grinned at Sam. “Well, have fun, and if he offers you more show tickets, we'll take them!” He picked up his laptop and started down the hall. Sam stood to follow, but paused in the doorway.

“Yes, Sam?”

“I just think that if you like him, well, he seems nice.” His face was in the shadow of the hallway, but Bilbo could see his hands twisting together. “He seemed happy that you'd emailed him and that's good.”

“It is good,” Bilbo agreed. “Thank you, Sam.”

Sam shrugged and followed Frodo down the hall to his bedroom; music was pouring out of the half-open door. It faded as Sam closed the door.

Bilbo sat at the table, staring into space. “Well,” he said after a few silent minutes, “that was a lot better than a Rage Comic, but just as incomprehensible.”

In his office, he spent a few minutes looking for the headphones his mother had given him when Frodo had come to stay. She'd said something about needing to have privacy, and when he'd blushed, his father started laughing so hard he'd irritated his cough. _She'll never let me live this down._

He found his headphones under a stack of research papers he'd been reading over the summer and plugged them into his computer. Taking a deep breath, he started watching the talk show from the beginning. There wasn't much after when Frodo had cut off the replay and when the three men started to play one of the songs from their current album. 

He stopped watching halfway through the music and stared at the still image of Thorin, standing in the center of the talk show's small stage, blue eyes gazing directly into the camera, mouth just beginning a smile. For a moment, Bilbo could imagine Thorin looking at _him_ like that, as if he were special. Bilbo felt his heart speed up.

 _”You're fat and stupid, who'd want you?”_ Bilbo jerked back from the computer at a remembered echo of his ex's voice. 

“Oh shut up, Smeagol,” he muttered at the screen. “No one asked you.” But when Bilbo looked back at Thorin, the smile looked mocking instead of inviting, and his eyes, which had seemed warm and friendly, were cold. Bilbo pulled off the headphones, closed the tab with the talk show in it, and went to bed.

The next morning he woke up two hours before his alarm. After it was clear he wasn't going to get back to sleep, he got up, dressed quietly, and spent the next hour grading in the quiet kitchen. When he heard Frodo moving around down the hall, he put away the schoolwork and started a pot of steel-cut oatmeal. 

Frodo came yawning into the kitchen. “What's up, Uncle?” He peeked into the pot. “Are you adding raisins?”

“If you want. Go ahead – they're in the cabinet.” 

Frodo dropped in a handful of raisins and stirred the oatmeal. “You're up early,” he said, sitting down across from Bilbo. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I, um. I wanted to say that I'm sorry if I made you mad last night.”

Bilbo sighed. “No, I wasn't mad. I'm not mad. I wasn't expecting that, though.”

“Yeah. I thought it was funny, but Sam wasn't sure.” Frodo smiled, then yawned again. “He's hot, though.” 

“What?” Bilbo stared at him. 

“Thorin – he's hot. I mean, maybe not my style, but I can see what you see in him.” Frodo stood and stirred the oatmeal. “This is ready. Want some?”

“I don't – I mean, yes, Frodo, thanks. With butter and cream please? But,” he said, “I don't see anything in Thorin. We're barely even friends.”

Frodo looked over his shoulder. “If you say so. But maybe, if you get to be friends, maybe you could invite the bass guitarist over and he could play some games with us.” He brought two bowls to the table and set one in front of Bilbo. “He's the first person I've met who can challenge Pippin about elves and dwarves.”

Bilbo taught the morning lab session without paying much attention to it – showing the students how to use the molecular modeling software wasn't particularly complex. He kept thinking about the way Thorin had looked when Kili had accused him of being excited to get Bilbo's email. How unlikely was it that someone like Thorin was interested in him? 

As he walked through the halls on the way to his office, he found himself overhearing the conversation of a pack of undergraduates.

“Did you see that singer, Oakenshield? So fucking hot. And he's gay?” The one who was talking was walking backwards in the hallway, facing her friends, which meant Bilbo could see her face. Her eyes were very bright and she clutched the straps of her backpack so hard they were bent in half. “He said something about thinking some guy was cute.”

“Gay? I don't think so,” one of her friends said. “He's dating that girl, the stupid blonde actress from those slasher movies? I just saw something about them on TMZ.”

Another member of the group, a tall young man with curly black hair, shook his head. “Well, you weren't paying attention when you were watching, because he broke up with her about six months ago. He's bisexual.” He smiled at the first woman. “Yeah, Kathy, I saw the show. He looked really cute, didn't he? All flustered. I wonder who the guy is.”

The fourth person in the group, a shorter woman with very dark brown skin and the sides of her head shaved, groaned. “You know that just saying someone's cute doesn't mean you're actually interested in dating them, right? I mean, I like the way Steve in Physics looks, but I wouldn't date him if he were the last man on earth.”

Kathy started laughing. “Yes you would, if only to see if what he says about his dick size is correct.”

Bilbo ducked down a side corridor, hoping his blush didn't show. _THAT was more than I wanted to know about any of that – Thorin AND the students' sex lives._ He unlocked his office and thought, _I wonder who Steve in Physics is. He's clearly got a great line for getting girls._ and smacked himself in the forehead. 

In his office, he checked his work email, looked up two things he needed for Ori, then finally gave in and admitted to himself how much he was looking forward to checking his personal email. Sure enough, there was an email from Thorin.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Bilbo,_

_I ordered the first book in the series you recommended, the Napoleonic dragons one, and it's great. Thank you! I'll order the rest when I know I'll be in one place long enough to have a reliable address. Hotels are nice enough, I guess, but they're not exactly a shipping address, I'm sure you understand._

_I've been meaning to ask, what are you a professor of? Dwalin said your nephew made sure he knew, but he didn't know what you teach. And where – do you teach at one of the local colleges or did you and your family have to travel far to see the concert?_

_We've left Los Angeles now and are in Texas. We're planning on being here for two weeks – three performances each in Houston and Dallas. That'll bring us to Halloween._

_I looked up the author of _Rhovanion_ , Bandobras Took, and he hasn't written anything else. There are some childrens' stories by someone who seems to be a relation, a Belladonna Took, but I couldn't find anything specific. _

_I suppose I should go make MY nephews rehearse with me. I've been writing some new music and I want to get their opinion._

_Thorin  
_

Bilbo stared at the screen, mouth agape. “He found my mother's books,” he whispered. “Oh shit.”

“Oh my _god_ , Bilbo, you'll _never guess_.” Lobelia threw open the office door and stood in it, posing dramatically.

“Yes, I know,” Bilbo said, “I saw it too – Frodo made sure to show me over the weekend.” 

Lobelia looked at him oddly. “News sure travels fast. Who told you, your mother? If so, how did she know?”

“My mother? She doesn't even watch late-night talk shows.”

Lobelia started laughing. “Okay, clearly we're not talking about the same thing. Otho asked me to marry him this weekend.”

“Oh, _Lobelia_ ,” Bilbo breathed. “That's wonderful.” 

She smiled at him. “I know you don't think it is wonderful, so stop lying. You're crap at it. But it's what I want, and that's what matters.” She sat down in her chair. “Now, what about a late-night talk show?”

“Oh nothing,” Bilbo said, turning away to close his laptop. “Just, some of the undergrads were talking about something they'd seen on tv. What's tee em zee?”

Lobelia rolled her eyes. “I swear, Bilbo, if I didn't know for a fact that you're under 40. I'd say you're more like a grandparent than a man in his 30s. TMZ is a tv show about celebrity gossip.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Who's done something shocking now?”

Bilbo stood, dropping his laptop and several folders into his bag. “I don't know if I can remember the name the kids said. I've got to, erm, Ori's waiting for me.” He stopped at the door and turned back. “We both know it's not what I'd choose for you, but if you're happy, and he's happy, then I'm happy for you.”

She smiled at him. “It's what I've wanted for nearly twenty years, you know that, Bilbo.”

He nodded at her and left. _But is it really what Otho wants, Lobelia? It's not fair to make him marry you if he doesn't really want to._

Bilbo unlocked the door to the graduate student's lab without looking up. “Hey Ori,” he said, “I've brought you an article about geeky knitting and a loaf of bread I made over the weekend.” 

“Geeky knitting?” asked an unfamiliar voice. Bilbo looked up and saw a young man with flaming red hair braided back from his face sitting cross legged on one of the lab benches. He was grinning over at Ori, who was watching something at his usual sun-lit bench.

Ori didn't look away from the pipette he was using to fill several small glass jars. “Oh give over, Gimli, you know I knit. You're wearing the fucking Tardis socks I made for you right now.” He started snapping lids onto the filled jars. “Bilbo, this is my friend Gimli. He's mostly nice, but sometimes a bit of a jerk.”

Gimli slid off the bench and, placing one hand on his chest, bowed at the waist. “Gimli Grakung, at your service.”

Bilbo's brows drew together. “Gimli, Gloin's son?”

Gimli straightened up, his face going blank. “Yes, that's my father.”

“I've met him – he said you're in college, but I didn't know he meant this one.” Bilbo put his bag down on the desk at the front of the room. “He said you're doing ...” he paused, trying to remember. “Something in engineering?”

Gimli smiled, looking relieved, but still a bit uncertain. “I'm getting a BS in Mechanical Engineering with a minor in Metallurgy.” He leaned against the lab bench he'd been sitting on. “You've met my dad?”

Bilbo smiled. “Yes, at the Summer's End concert. He and my nephew and his friends had a rousing discussion of raiding parties or trading caravans or something.” He slid the folders and his laptop out of the bag and brought them to Ori's bench. “I've got the next set of trials here,” he opened a file on the computer and showed it to Ori. “And I brought you these to read over. They're not what we're working on, but I knew you'd be interested.” 

Ori started flipping through the folders. “Oh wow, yeah. Thanks, Bilbo. This is great. Look, Gimli, he's found stuff about ancient Swedish knitting.”

Bilbo turned back to Gimli. “We don't offer those degrees – are you at Belegost University?”

Gimli was grinning at him. “ _You're_ the one with the role-playing kids! He told me all about them, and you. Thanks, by the way. Most of the time he hates those after-show things – everyone only wants to talk about how much sex they think the band's having and he hates it. He was so happy to have something fun to talk about.”

Bilbo laughed. “Well, my nephew told me just this morning that if he – your dad, I mean – ever wants to come over and play a game with them, he'd be up for it.” At Ori's snort, Bilbo laughed again. “Oh stop it, Ori, you know Frodo. If it's something to do with that dungeon crawling game, or the nutty one with the magical items that have to be dropped into Pits of Doom, he's all over it. I think Gloin might have been the first adult he's met in person who's interested as well.”

“Well, my dad used to play, but he stopped a long time ago,” Gimli said. “I'm on one of the big online servers, though – do you know if your nephew is?”

Bilbo blinked at him. “Online servers? I've no idea.”

Ori rolled his eyes. “Why don't you go visit Frodo, Gimli? I'm sure you'd appreciate a good trouncing, and from what he's said, Frodo's pretty good.”

Bilbo pulled a plastic container from his bag and opened it. “You'd be welcome,” he said, offering the chocolate chip cookies to Gimli and Ori. “Just don't tell the dean that we're eating cookies in the lab, okay?”


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emailing all around.

_To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Thorin,_

_I teach Organic Chemistry at the State University. I'm an Assistant Professor, actually, which means I'm nearly tenured, but not quite. I'm well published, though, so I shan't perish. Right now I'm working on something with enolates of aryl compounds, but I'm sure you're not interested in that._

_I've just met the son of your bass guitarist, Gloin. Gimli is friends with one of my graduate students, Ori Kuningatarsson... who's actually the brother of your keyboardist, now that I remember it. Anyway, it was very funny to run into other people who know your band._

_I'm glad you liked the Napoleonic dragons book. Do you prefer fantasy? What else do you like to read? Are you on tour much? Do you have much time for reading when you're on tour? I confess I have no idea what being on tour really means – I imagine it as a succession of hotel rooms and stages, but surely there's more to it._

_A friend of mine just loaned me a book..._

Bilbo paused. He just realized that the book Nori had given him to read wasn't published yet. He'd been reading it so he could write a review for the back. He couldn't very well tell Thorin to read something that he wasn't supposed to have. 

“Damn. I have to tell him that I'm Bandobras Took. Or,” he rubbed his eyes, “that I'm writing as him.” He grinned at the thought of his Great-Grand Uncle; he'd have been uproariously amused at the thought of Bilbo using his name as a nom de plume. He'd died when Bilbo was young, but Bilbo remembered his sense of humor – it had been an education for the young boy, one which all his aunts and elderly relatives insisted was inappropriate. 

He deleted the last sentence and started over.

_I assume you're familiar with the books with the hyperactive short space captain. That author wrote a trilogy – should have been a quintet, but she seems to have moved on to other things. Anyway, she wrote three books set in an alternate (and literally upside down) Europe, with a Quintarian set of gods. I was surprised at how well she did the religious stuff; so often alternate religions are used to Have Messages about current religions but she doesn't seem to be making that sort of statement._

_I really enjoyed the first and third of them – maybe you could tell me what you think?_

_Where do you live? I don't mean specifically, but surely you have somewhere other than a hotel for amazon to deliver to._

_Bilbo  
_

*

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Bilbo,_

_Yes, I've read the space books. His mother is my favorite character. I haven't read the others, though. I'll order them when I finish working my way through the Napoleonic ones. I had to stop reading for a couple of days. I don't have a lot of free time when we're actually performing. It's sort of a mixed bag, being on tour._

_I'm either too busy to think or I have nothing to do all day. On performance days, I get up early and we run though the set and the staging and then there's the performance itself and there's always an after-show party or event. We do two or three shows in each town, then there's a bit of a break before the next one. I'm exhausted for a day or two after so I spend a lot of that time reading._

_Gimli's a great kid. His father's very proud of him for carrying on the family traditions._

_I'm sorry, I want to say more but if I don't go to sleep now, my headache will knock my head right off._

_Good night._

_Thorin  
_

*

_To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Thorin,_

_I hope you got some rest. Traveling like that doesn't sound like it's very fun. Maybe I should make you a care package of cookies and tea and naproxen sodium. Do you prefer chocolate chip or snickerdoodles?_

_Gimli did seem nice. He said that he plays the same sort of role playing games that Frodo (and all of Frodo's friends) play. I'm never sure if they're online or on paper – they seem to be on paper, but Gimli said something about being on one of the online servers, so now I'm well and confused. Ori suggested I invite Gimli to my house for Frodo and the terrors to play with. That sounds like a play date for toddlers, doesn't it?_

_What's the family tradition that Gimli's upholding? If I remember what Gloin said, music isn't it._

_I've been swamped with midterms and grading and lab work so I haven't gotten much reading done. I'm hoping that I can get a break this weekend. I haven't done much baking recently and I miss it._

_Where are you? Are you in Houston?_

_Bilbo  
_

*

_To: BellaBaggins_  
From: ProfBBaggins  
[3 attachments] 

_Dear Mom,_

_Well, midterms are over and I think we all survived. The average was pretty high this year – we broke 60! Frodo's doing well and we heard from his parents just last week. They made landfall in American Samoa and are planning on cruising around French Polynesia for a while. It sounds like they're having fun. I've attached the pictures they sent – the ones of the sunrises are stunning, aren't they?_

_The kids are already discussing their halloween costumes. Frodo's said he wants to go as Han Solo, but I think that he'll end up doing something as a group with Sam, Pippin, and Merry. I'll send along photos, of course._

_How's Dad? Has he been taking care? It looks like it's been cold there; he's been staying in, right?_

_Oh, and I assume you heard. Lobelia's finally got Otho to propose._

_Bilbo  
_

*

_To: Nori@ConsortBooks_  
From: ProfBBaggins  
[1 attachment] 

_Dear Nori,_

_I finished reading the book you gave me to write the pre-publication review for and it's good. I like the way the author kept the plot bouncing between the different characters. All of the characters were relatable, even if they weren't particularly ethical. It's hard to write unscrupulous characters who are still ones we can identify with. I wrote a review; it's attached. Let me know if you need something else._

_I have a question, though. I know someone else who might really like that book. Can I loan it out at all? They're someone who isn't in the industry, but I don't think they'd talk about it in public, so there'd be no early publicity or anything._

_Let me know? Thanks._

_Bilbo_

_PS: Oh, I've finished the outline for the rest of the third book. I do think there are a couple more books in the series, but that'll be it. There might be more in the universe itself, but I'm not sure. I guess I should start thinking of something else to write about, huh?  
_

*

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: BellaBaggins_

_Dear,_

_Well, your father's been mostly good. You know how hard winters are for him. He does want to go out so much and he has such a hard time when it's cold. He's been paying the little kids in the neighborhood to go into the woods and pick things for him. I wish he wouldn't – there are only so many mushroom pies I can make before I start to ache for a nice huckleberry or olallieberry pie. Don't tell, okay?_

_He has the kids using leather gloves after the mishap with the little Brandybuck boy over in Bywater. We don't want a repeat hospital trip, thank you very much._

_I've been working on another in the series of books about the toad and his peach friend. It is cold out, but half an hour of sketching by the pond under the oak tree in the back garden is just enough to give me the framework for days of painting._

_I can't wait to see what Frodo and his friends decide to dress up as – do let me know if they'll need help with the sewing. And Prim and Drogo's photographs are quite breathtaking._

_Lobelia's mother came to me with the news, but I couldn't quite be as excited for her as she wished. I had hoped that Lobelia would find someone new in the city, but she has always been very unwilling to give up on her first choices._

_Keep me posted of anything new and interesting in your life, dear._

_All my love,_

_Mom  
_

*

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: Nori@ConsortBooks_

_Who do you want to loan the book to? It's an ARC, of course, so it's not perfect, but sure. Is it someone who could potentially give us a review? For this or another book, later?_

_Let me know when you need me to clear a day or so for reading the last of the trilogy and let's meet soon to talk about adding two more books to the series. When are you free?_

_Nori  
_

*

_To: GimliGrakung  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Gimli,_

_Ori gave me your email, I hope you don't mind. If you really are interested in hanging out with a group of rowdy high school kids, we'd love to have you over. I can promise a real home cooked meal and even send you home with the leftovers, if you'd like. (I remember my days as an undergrad, and I think I was never so hungry as then.)_

_Let me know when you'd want to come over._

_Bilbo  
_

*

_To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Thorin,_

_There's a book I have, an ARC, which you might enjoy. If you give me an address, I can send it to you. I hope your tour is going well - I saw something in the news about it being sold out, so that sounds good?_

_Bilbo  
_

*

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_Good doesn't begin to cover it. Being on stage is amazing – it starts out tense, every time. I don't know why I'm always so worried beforehand. Bifur says it's stage fright, but I don't get stage fright. I'm not afraid of the stage or the audience or the show going wrong. It won't go wrong,_

_Even if it did, we'd just play through it. Nothing on stage could be as bad as other things in my life have been so why would I be afraid?_

_No, it's more like I just can't quite focus past the next five minute until I'm ON stage and then there's nothing to think about except the moment I'm in and the song I'm singing. It's one of the best feelings ever, just being able to let go and sing. I never expected to feel this way about anything, especially after I stopped working with my father. Boy was that a disaster._

_I was thinking about you for the two past shows. Would you like to come to another show? I could get you tickets to the last one in Dallas, would that work for you?_

_I was up late last night re-reading the end of _Rhovanion_. The author has clearly spent time with horses. I wonder if he still rides. _

_I've been working on writing more music. I know we just finished this album and we've still nearly a year of touring to support it but I can feel the music filling me. It's such an amazing feeling – sometimes it's like the world is singing through me and I can barely keep up with the notes and words. Do you ever feel that? Do the chemicals sing to you or is what you do more like baking? Or cookery? Or is it like being in a secret lab with bubbling beakers and strange glass bottles with twisted necks and bulbous curves?_

_Does your lab have windows or is it dark? I hope it has windows - I can't imagine you in a dark lab. You looked so happy when we met at the radio station with the sun glowing in your hair. It sparked off you when you laughed and filled the air with the shine of gems in afternoon light._

_Tauriel made you laugh – do you like her? She's very pretty, isn't she? I think that she and Kili have an understanding, he's said something about her, but I'm not sure how she really feels about him. I'm pretty sure he loves her. I wish there were a way to find out what she thinks._

_Do you eat dinner? I wanted to take you to a restaurant I know in the city. It's the House of Ur, do you know it? The food is delicious – the owner is the head chef and he's insistent that the food all be locally sourced. It's often seafood, but he does the most amazing things with it. He does amazing things with some of the most unexpected foods. I would love to take you there and see what you think. I'm sure you'd love it._

_I couldn't stop wondering what you'd think, while I was on stage today. Did you like the music? You never did say, when we first met. You were so busy keeping an eye on the boys you came with that we didn't get a chance to talk about music at all. All I know is that you can identify the Hall of the Mountain King and that you like Mike Oldfield._

_Fili just knocked on the door, so I think it's time for us to eat dinner. It's late, I know, but we never get to eat at the after-show parties and I wouldn't be able to eat there anyway, I never get any time to myself. I'll think about where else I'd like to take you to dinner while we eat. Maybe Dori will have some suggestions. His brother's a publicist in the city, so he knows many of the good places._

_Thorin  
_

*

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_Please, ignore the previous email. I had just finished two concerts in two days – usually we have at least a day between shows but our manager added a couple of shows because we have been sold out for over two months and he thought it would be good publicity to add shows and let more people see us._

_I was very tired and hadn't eaten and, um. I'm very sorry. I know I rambled and none of what I said made sense. I hope I haven't offended you._

_In answer to your question, I prefer snickerdoodles, but you don't need to send me anything. I am interested in the ARC you mentioned, though. If you think I'll like it, I'm sure I will._

_Thorin_

_PS: I would like to meet for a meal, if you'd be willing. We could talk about the dragons books or anything you'd like.  
_

Bilbo sat at his desk in his office and stared at the computer screen. At first, he'd thought that Thorin must have intended that email to go to someone else. He couldn't imagine himself sending off sparks like gems in sunlight, and it sounded so odd to have someone describe him that way. He scrolled back up and re-read that section; he covered the small smile on his face with one hand.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. _Lobelia still has class for an hour. Phew_

After a long moment, he hit Reply on the second email from Thorin and started typing. 

_To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Thorin,_

_Of course I'd like to meet for dinner._


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New friends are always fun, and what does one wear to a first date?

“Come in, come in,” Bilbo swung the door wide and Gimli stepped carefully over the threshold, wearing a big backpack and carrying a paper shopping bag. 

“I brought you a bottle of wine,” Gimli said, pulling it out of the bag and handing it to Bilbo.

Frodo came thundering down the hall, followed closely by Pippin.

“Are you really the Grey King's son? Does that make you the Grey Prince?” Pippin's voice was bright. “Because your dad's all wrong about elves, you know, so if you've got the same stupid ideas, you're going to have a hard time.” He grinned at Frodo, who'd just dropped his head into his hands.

Gimli froze for a second, but by the time Pippin stopped, he was laughing. “Oh, I don't make the mistakes my dad likes to make. I make all my own mistakes.” He thrust out a hand. “Gimli Grakung, and who're you?”

Frodo and Pippin led him down the hall, chattering excitedly, but he stopped halfway down and turned back to Bilbo. “Let me know if there's anything you need help with in the kitchen,” he said. Bilbo just smiled and waved him off.

“Oh, don't worry about it. It'll be nice to have someone other than these hooligans to cook for.” Bilbo smiled as Gimli followed Sam into Frodo's room, already asking something incomprehensible about gem sockets.

Bilbo looked at the wine and shook his head. _Gimli's parents brought him up well, if he's giving hostess gifts so easily. I wonder if he picked out the wine and how he bought it. I didn't think he was 21 yet._ Shaking his head, he carried the wine to the kitchen, then brought a serving tray with several types of cookies, a few different scones, a pile of blondies, and a stack of napkins to Frodo's room.

“Hey kids,” he said, shoving the door open. “Here are a few refreshments – stop grabbing, Pippin.” He set the tray down on a quickly cleared corner of the bed. “Try to keep the crumbs to a minimum, okay, and don't spill the soda on the floor. Or the bed.” He left the room, then turned back. “Dinner'll be about seven. I'm in my office for now. Don't get any blood on the carpet.” The chorus of agreement was muffled through full mouths.

Bilbo sat at his desk and smiled. _Well, he seems to fit in. I wonder what they're talking about with elves and dwarves._ With a shrug, he turned back to his own story.

After a couple of hours, he stopped writing and checked his email. There wasn't anything from Thorin, but his mother had sent pictures of some of his father's latest illustrations. He was smiling at the sketches of the local boys who'd brought the latest batch of winter mushrooms when there was a knock at the half-open door. He turned and saw Gimli's red head poking around the door. “Yes, Gimli?”

“I was thinking of ordering pizza, if that's okay with you. Frodo said it would be, he says there's a place you like to use, but I wasn't sure if you had plans or not.” Gimli stepped into the room, glancing around at the over-filled shelves. He carefully touched the wooden nose of a model Chinese lung dragon. “Do you like dragons? One of the guys in my dad's band carves some really cool stuff –“ 

“Bifur! I met him when I met your father. And...” Bilbo trailed off, suddenly struck by something. “And I met his cousin as well, but I hadn't quite put that together until now. Bof... something.”

Gimli grinned. “Bofur, yeah. He's great. Anyway, they make these dragons out of gears and springs and stuff. You should see them!”

“I have. There's a red one out in the living room.” Bilbo leaned back and crossed his ankles. “Bofur rather insisted, and after he'd given me Deathless, I felt a bit bad, you know, not buying anything.”

Gimli turned away from the model dragon, brows raised. “He gave you _Deathless_? Wow, I thought he'd never give him up.” He wandered to the other side of the office. “You teach Organic Chemistry, huh?” He flicked a finger against the shelf of chemistry books. “I never had to take the class, but one of my friends has a BS in Biology and he loved it. He said it was some of the most interesting stuff he learned in college.” His smile as he ran his fingertips over the writing on the spine of one of Bilbo's antique chemistry books made Bilbo feel like he was looking at something very private. 

“Ah,” he said, glancing at his computer screen, “does he work in the field?”

Gimli looked up at him, a startled expression fleeting across his face. “Who, Leggy? No, he works for his father. I don't know if he's ever going to use the degree. I think he got it because he wanted to piss off his dad.” He stepped away from the shelves of chemistry books towards the shelf of books Bilbo had for the research he did for his novels and grinned. “Hey, you've got a copy of _Rhovanion_. Cool! What did you think of it? And, wait, how'd you get an ARC for the sequel?” He picked up one of the books and flipped it open. “ _Eorlingas_?”

Bilbo froze. _Oh shit._ “Oh, I've a friend who knows I like science fiction and stuff, so he sends me things he thinks I'll enjoy. Erm, did you want pizza or were you just trying to escape the mayhem?”

Gimli looked up. “What?” He blinked for a second. “Right, yeah, I was. Going to get pizza, I mean, sorry. They're not so bad, the boys.” He set _Eorlingas_ back down and grinned, looking a bit sheepish. “Sorry, I got distracted. So, pizza, yeah. I thought, since you're cooking dinner for me, I could spring for lunch. Frodo said you like the local place, but I thought I'd check first.”

Bilbo stood up and left the room, hoping Gimli would follow him. “Pizza sounds great. I like lots of mushrooms and not much pepperoni, but if you call the local place and give them my address, they'll know exactly what to send.” He could hear Pippin trying to convince Sam about something, and laughed. “Anyway,” he continued, in the living room, “if you're interested, I set up the carvings I got from your dad's friends in the windowsill. Except Deathless – he didn't fit, somehow.” 

While Gimli was placing the order, Bilbo got Deathless from his nightstand. The little carved Dwarf looked up at him, his expression stoic and calm. Bilbo found that everyone had migrated to the living room and shook his head. Merry'd turned on the television to one of the pseudo-science stations and was arguing loudly with Sam about whether Nostradamus had really predicted the rise of social media. Gimli looked over and waved his phone.

“I added a small barbecue chicken to the ones the shop said you usually get,” Gimli said. “Oh, there he is.” He reached for Deathless but just patted his head in Bilbo's hand. “Only three of that set were saved and Fili and Kili kept theirs.”

After lunch, Bilbo went back to his office. “Cripes,” he said, quietly. “I didn't expect him to see _Eorlingas_.” He rubbed his eyes. “Okay, Bilbo, back to work.” 

Before he re-opened any of the files, either those for his chemistry research or for his next novel, he checked his email again. There still wasn't anything from Thorin. _He's busy, you can't expect that he'll email you back right away._ Bilbo wished he could convince himself. He closed his eyes for a minute, then resolutely opened the file with the latest results of the trials he and Ori had done. 

Over dinner, Gimli regaled them with stories of silly things that his own gaming group did and, when Sam asked, he talked about what he was studying. 

“And what do you want to do,” he asked Sam, scraping the last of the mashed potatoes off his plate. 

Across the table, Sam blushed and said, “Botany, probably. My dad's got a nursery and I like working with the plants.”

“That sounds good,” Gimli said. “Always a good idea to do something you know you already like. Most of my family's engineers, so I figured I'd have someone to help if I ever got stuck, and I like making tangible stuff, so Mechanical Engineering made sense. My uncle was pleased – he said something about keeping up the family traditions.”

“I'm going into politics,” Pippin chimed in. His bright grin was undimmed, even in the face of Sam's groan. “No, really,” he said, “I think it's important for politicians to be able to make people get along and I know I can do that.”

“Yeah,” Frodo said, “if only because they can all agree that you're a total idiot.”

Even Pippin laughed at that.

After dessert and an enthusiastic promise to return for a rematch from Gimli, Bilbo set the boys to cleaning the dinner dishes while he finished working. 

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_Excellent! Weekends are bad for me right now, as they're mostly taken up with shows, but could you meet me this Wednesday? I don't know what your teaching schedule is like – there are so many things I don't know about you. We could meet any time on Wednesday._

_The show was a little rocky tonight. Nothing went wrong, exactly, but something was off. One of the amplifiers wasn't quite right, and the local tech crew didn't set up the equipment the way we said, so we had to spend an hour getting the stuff re-wired so it would all hook up to the right machines. I don't think the audience noticed anything, but we could all tell._

_We don't have any shows again until Thursday night, when we've a smaller thing booked – something for one of the local radio stations, like where we met, but without the festival first._

_I'm exhausted, but I can't quite get settled. I ate in the hotel room (I am getting so tired of hotel food) and tried to read, but I can't concentrate. Maybe I'll take a hot bath when I'm done emailing you and see if that helps._

_Let me know if Wednesday works for you. Good night._

_Thorin  
_

Bilbo couldn't help the smile that rose to his lips. He glanced at Deathless, who was now standing guard over his computer mouse, and rubbed the Dwarf's head. “I've got a date.”

_To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Thorin,_

_Wednesday sounds great. My last class ends in the early afternoon, so I could meet you any time after, say, 4? That's a bit early for dinner, though._

_Where would you like to eat? Do you like Chinese food? What kind of food do you like?_

Bilbo paused. _I feel like a fucking teenager. What, am I going to ask him his favorite color next?_ He sighed. 

_Gimli was over today to play whatever game they're playing with Frodo and his friends. They seemed to have a good time and Gimli's a very good kid. He even brought a bottle of wine – I don't think I was up to that level of hostess gift until I'd graduated. Clearly his parents did a good job._

_I sent him home with a bunch of leftovers from dinner – I remember missing home-cooked food when I was away at college. I can't imagine how awful it is for you, eating in restaurants or at hotels for so long._

_Let me know what time and where you'd like to meet and I'll be there._

_Bilbo  
_

On Wednesday morning, Bilbo found himself in front of his closet staring at his until now adequate rack of clothing. _What should I wear?_ After a few minutes of dithering, he smacked himself on the forehead and grabbed the first clean shirt that came to hand, a fresh pair of jeans, and the dark red sweater his aunt Linda had knit for him three Christmasses ago. _This'll just have to do. It's all clean, at least, and there aren't any strange spills or chemical burns on any of it._ At the last minute, he chose a dark blue button down shirt as well and packed it carefully into his bag.

He drove across the bridge into the city after classes were over, happily singing along to the songs on Frodo's modern rock station. He parked under Nori's office and took the elevator up, stopping at the receptionist's desk to ask if Nori was available. 

Nori stuck his head out of one of the conference rooms. “Hey,” he said, coming out and shutting the door behind himself. “I didn't expect you – what's up?” He started to lead Bilbo to his office, but Bilbo stopped him. 

“If you're in a meeting, I can just give you this.” Bilbo held out a plastic container with brownies in it. On top of the brownies was a USB drive.

Nori's eyes lit. “Oh, he can wait for a few minutes. It'll do him good to know he's not the most important person in the world, and certainly not the most important author I represent.” He shook the box slightly. “What's this?”

“I finished the draft of the third book on the drive. There's a file with the ideas I had for the two follow up books as well. And, well, brownies, so you can snack while you read.”

“Terrific,” Nori said. Then he looked at Bilbo and raised an eyebrow. “You're looking slightly sharper than usual for after a day of classes. I knew you'd eventually succumb to my many charms...” He wiggled his eyebrows and Bilbo laughed. 

“As if you'd ever be interested in anyone but Sara. No, I've erm, I'm going on a date.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Or something like a date, anyway.”

“Oh _really_?” Nori set the brownies down on his receptionist's desk and looked Bilbo up and down. “Anyone I know?”

Bilbo opened his mouth to say no, then paused. _Oh._ His hesitation was just long enough that Nori chuckled. 

“I see it _is_ someone I know. Let me guess. Thorin Durin.”

“What the .. how do you know?” Bilbo stared.

Nori continued chuckling. “My brother sees him every single day, you know, and Thorin's not very good at being subtle. Dori mentioned that Thorin couldn't stop talking about some guy he'd met at the Summer's End concert and when he said your name I nearly choked.” He grinned. “Not that there's anything wrong with you and Thorin dating, just, well, I didn't know he was your type.”

Bilbo groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “So, I lost my phone at the after-show thing, right? And when I called the club, they told me I could pick it up at the radio station – the last time I was here, in fact, I went there right after to get my phone. Thorin was there to return it and …” Bilbo coughed. “He was reading _Rhovanion_ and I thought … it's the first time I've ever met anyone who's reading the book but who wasn't at a signing, so I asked what he thought of it and –“ 

Nori burst out laughing. “And so you didn't tell him you're Bandobras Took and now you're stuck.” He ran a hand down his face. “How do you end up in these scrapes? I'll never forget the time you got locked out of the hotel room on the signing tour.”

Bilbo crossed his arms and glared. “That would have been fine if you hadn't been lost in the damned casino downstairs and you know it. And anyway, so now we're meeting for dinner.” He uncrossed his arms. “Oh, and he's the one I wanted to give the ARC of that morally ambiguous book to – that's still okay, right?”

Nori nodded. “You'll have to tell me more about this later. I should get back to my negotiations with Smaug. He's such an asshole.” He slanted another grin at Bilbo. “But don't tell him I told you that.”

Bilbo made it to the lobby of the radio station ten minutes later. _I guess meeting here is as good as anything, but I don't see why Thorin didn't give me the address of the restaurant._ He pulled out his phone and read the instructions Thorin had emailed him. _Now I have to find the elevator in the back and press the button for the middle parking level. Ooookay..._

There was a familiar looking tall blonde man in the elevator and after a second, Bilbo recognized him. “Legolas,” he said, “right?” 

The man looked up from reading his phone and blinked. “Professor Baggins, how nice to see you again. Are you –“ he glanced at the button Bilbo had pressed. “Ah, going down, I see.”

Bilbo hitched his bag up on his shoulder. “Yes, but I'm not exactly sure where I'm going after that.”

Legolas smiled, his face brightening. “You'll probably want to go across to the opposite wall, there's a door there.” Just then the doors opened and Bilbo stepped forward. When he glanced back, Legolas said, “Oh, my car's parked lower down. Have a nice evening.”

Bilbo watched the doors close and turned, feeling distinctly odd. _What kind of date starts with meeting in a parking lot? But maybe he was meeting someone at the station and parked here and we're going to drive somewhere else...?_ He walked across the parking floor and turned right into the hall at the other side of the lot.

There was a standard tiled parking lot lobby with elevators and random unmarked doors, but one door was marked “House of UR”. Bilbo stepped through and stopped. It opened into a plush lobby with thick burgundy carpeting and heavy drapes on the wall. Standing across the room, Thorin looked up from the book in his hand. 

“You came,” he said. The smile that rose to his lips made Bilbo's breath catch in his chest.


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what makes something a date?

“I wasn't sure my directions would be adequate,” Thorin said, tucking his book under his arm. “But you seem to have had no trouble.”

Bilbo laughed a little. “I made it, but it was a bit confusing. I thought you might have had a meeting at the radio station for something and so you wanted to meet in the parking lot. It did seem an odd place to meet.”

Thorin didn't respond immediately; he just kept looking at Bilbo's face. His smile had softened a bit into something a little less breathtaking, but no less difficult for Bilbo to look at directly. After a moment long enough for Bilbo to begin to feel uncomfortable, Thorin jerked slightly.

“Right! That would be odd – why would I meet with anyone at the radio station? Greenwood Events are in the building as well, but I think Kili would prefer to meet with them. Or,” his smile turned wry, “with one of them.” He turned slightly and Bilbo saw that he'd been standing in front an open elevator which was hidden by a of a bit of curtain partially held back by a thick shining cord with heavy beaded tassels hanging from the ends. Thorin bowed slightly and gestured to the open door. “Would you like to go up?”

The elevator only had two buttons; Thorin pushed the one marked UR and grinned at Bilbo as the doors slid shut. “So,” he said, “you taught today? How were classes? Do you teach freshmen or what?”

Bilbo rubbed his nose. “Not freshmen, god I hope I never have to teach freshmen again.” He grinned at Thorin's bark of laughter. “I've got sophomores, mostly, but they're not always much better. At least they've learned a little lab procedure by the time they get to me.”

“I didn't take – “ The elevator doors swished open and Thorin turned. “Ah, here we are.” He led the way into the restaurant foyer. The carpet was thick and soft, with an angular black pattern woven through a gentle mix of rusty browns. The walls were hidden behind drapes, but there was a window looking out over the street and Bilbo could see that it looked into the windows of the office he'd been in when Thorin had returned his phone. 

“Ah, Mr Durin, it's good to see you again.” A young woman stood from behind an ornate roll-top desk with a wide smile. “If you and your guest will follow me?” She led the way past a short hallway down which Bilbo could hear the sounds of people dining, and through a door straight ahead which was mostly hidden behind a green curtain. 

“You're not back from tour, are you?” The hostess asked, glancing over her shoulder at Thorin, who shook his head. “How are you finding Houston?”

“I'm not, much.” Thorin shrugged. “We don't really get to see the cities we visit on tour. I've heard the Fine Arts museum is good, but I don't think I'll have time to go see anything.”

The hostess led them through another door and down a corridor, the right side of which was all heavy velvet drapes, pairs of which were held closed with cords tied loosely together. She stopped in front of an untied pair of drapes and pulled them open, revealing a little private room with a heavy wood table, two comfortable looking upholstered chairs, a small side table, and a window looking out over another street. “I'll let Mr Blafjel know you've arrived,” she said, smiling at them and standing back. “Alison will be along in just a moment.” She closed the curtains behind them and Bilbo heard her high heels clicking away.

He sat, letting his bag slip to the floor at his feet and stared out the window. “I had no idea there was a restaurant up here,” he said, smiling at Thorin.

“The main seating floor is on the other side of the building – you can see into it from where we met,” Thorin replied. “This part is much more private, even the windows are one way, so no one can see in from outside.” 

“Well, the view is amazing. I thought one-way glass was frosted on the inside or something. It always looks dim in the movies.” Bilbo leaned forward, looking down at the people in the street. Four stories up didn't seem like much when you were in an elevator, but it was high enough to make everyone look rather small. He glanced up and found Thorin smiling at him.

“Maybe older stuff was, but this glass has always been crystal clear.” Thorin leaned forward and looked out, himself. “I always forget how interesting it is to watch people.” He sighed. “Mostly I don't have a lot of time to do it.”

Bilbo looked at him. Thorin was looking along the street towards where the bay was just barely visible; his eyes were dark and the corners of his mouth pulled down. 

“I don't often people watch, although it's something I enjoy,” Bilbo said, feeling a little overwhelmed. “But I do get to watch the students and they're always entertaining. In fact, there was a group the other day who'd – “ He broke off as he remembered that they'd been talking about _Thorin_ and what they'd been saying. He coughed. “Well, let's just say that I learned something about how one of the kids in the Physics class is getting people into bed.”

Thorin laughed, and Bilbo felt himself blush. Just then there was a little knock and the curtains pulled open, showing a short, slightly plump woman with a big smile and dark skin. She held small tablet in her hands.

“Hullo, I'm Alison,” she said. “Mr Durin, you're back! I thought you were still on tour.”

Thorin smiled at her. “I am, but important business called me back for the day. How are your children?”

She laughed, shoving a lock of wavy hair back behind her ear. “Oh, I can barely keep up. The younger one's all hot and bothered now about artificial intelligence and my daughter's dating about half the student body at college. Ah,” she laughed, “to be young and full of energy again.”

“She'll be graduating soon, yes?” 

“Oh, I think she's added on a semester – something about taking another three classes and getting a second minor. I don't know where she gets it from, her father and I were never that focused at that age.” She grinned, shoved her hair back again, and then turned to Bilbo and said briskly, “So, Mr Durin knows what we're like, but you might not, so I'll let you know how the House works. Everything changes daily, depending on what Mr Blafjel finds at the morning markets. His specialties are often fish, but sometimes there are other things as well.” 

She stepped aside as a young man slid into the room and laid out menus, two sets of small plates, a pair of wine glasses, napkins and cutlery. As he brought a bowl of warm bread and a dish with pots of butter, she continued. 

“So, you can order from the daily menu or a la carte, but mostly people order the prix fixe meal.” She leaned forward and mock-whispered to Bilbo, “Sometimes he comes in and just gets desserts.”

Across the table, Thorin snorted. “Oh thanks, Alison, tell all my secrets.” 

Bilbo blinked up at her, feeling his blush return but a smile tug at his lips. “I won't tell if you won't,” he returned in the same mock whisper. 

Thorin glanced at Bilbo. “Do you want to look at the menu?” He'd twisted the corner of the napkin into a tight point. 

Something about Thorin's nerves made Bilbo relax. He'd been tense about meeting Thorin Durin, _Thorin Oakenshield_ , but right now he was just Thorin, who asked waitresses about their children and was sad that he didn't have much time for simple things like people watching. 

“Oh, let's have an adventure,” he said. “Go ahead and order and I'll just enjoy the surprises.”

Alison nodded and turned back to Thorin. “So, what's it to be?”

He looked at Bilbo. “Are you allergic to anything? Is there anything you really hate to eat?”

“Health food.”

Alison laughed. “I like this one,” she said to Thorin in the same mock-whisper. 

He glanced at the menu, then leaned in and whispered into her ear. She nodded and made notes on her tablet, then chuckled. “That's quite a meal,” she said at the end. “I'm sure you'll both enjoy it.” She waved at both of them, checked the table for anything missing, then pulled the curtains closed behind her as she left.

“Well,” Bilbo said into the short silence Alison left behind. “This isn't what I expected at all.”

Thorin looked at him, face suddenly stiff. “Oh?”

“I'd expected something like a dinner out, you know, in a room with lots of other tables and diners and waitstaff threading their way through like narrow little submarines, serving trays up in the air like periscopes.” He laughed, propping his elbow on the table and poking the bread. “Instead, I'm in a private, drape-lined room in an upstairs secret restaurant, about to be served what has been promised to be something along the lines of a Cordon Bleu mystery meal.” He grinned at Thorin and unwrapped the cloth from the bread. 

“Oh,” he sighed, “and the little loaves are all different. How lovely. Hmmm...” He inhaled deeply; bread always smelled wonderful. “I think this one's sourdough. I hope you didn't have your heart set on it.” He tore the roll open and hovered the knife over the little pots of butter. “Oh my, and the butters are different as well.” He pulled the butter tray closer and sniffed gently. “Garlic,” he muttered, “and this one's all herby, and oh, cinnamon sugar!” He carefully spread some of the herb butter on half of his roll and bit into it with a happy sigh. His eyes drifted closed and he smiled, eating the half roll in two bites. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw that he'd got a bit of butter on one fingertip, so he stuck it into his mouth to lick it clean. Thorin was staring at him and Bilbo sat up straight. “Oh Thorin, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hoard the bread...” He shoved the bread bowl back into the center of the table. 

Thorin coughed. “Ah, no, I wasn't ... I mean, thank you. They do have good bread here.” He pulled out a roll with seeds on the crust and broke it in half. “I hope you don't mind the difference between what you expected and –“

“Oh not at all! This is fantastic, really, Thorin.” Bilbo spread a bit more of the herb butter on the bread and ate it. “It's like an unexpected adventure, _much_ better than what I'd expected.”

“Ah.” Thorin looked pleased and ate half of his roll without any butter at all. 

Bilbo caught sight of the book Thorin had been reading, set on the side table near the curtains. “You were reading when I got here.”

Thorin glanced over. “I'm on the second of the Chalion books,” he said. “I wanted to see what I thought of it.” He grimaced. “I like the main character – I'm very glad to see more of her after what happened to her in the first book – but I'm not sure about some of the other characters at all.”

Bilbo propped his chin in his hand. “No, that one's always been a bit difficult for me. I have friends who love it, so I've always wondered if I'm just not seeing something obvious in it.” He shrugged. “To each their own, I guess. The third one's set in a different country and a different time, I think, and I really liked it, though it is much darker.”

“I'll finish it and tell you what I think,” he said, reaching forward. For a moment, Bilbo thought he was going to take his hand, but then he took another roll and dropped it on his plate. Bilbo was surprised at how disappointed he felt. _You're just out to talk about books with a new friend, Bilbo, it's not like you're really on a_ date.

There was another slight knock from outside and the young man opened the curtains. He set out two small forks and two small slate squares. Then he took a carafe of wine from an ice bucket, wrapped it carefully in a white napkin and placed it on the table. Finally, he set five small bowls, each a different shape, on the table. He nodded to Bilbo and Thorin, and left, closing the curtains behind himself.

Bilbo smiled. “It's like a dance,” he said. “I almost expected him to bow at the end.” 

Thorin chuckled, then picked up the wine carafe and poured some into their glasses. He lifted his and waited. Bilbo jumped – he'd been trying to figure out what was in the square bowl – and raised his own glass. “To new friends and new hope,” Thorin said, and Bilbo heard himself say, “Hear hear.” The glasses rung out like bells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I realized I should be linking to information about the books I mention in the story!
> 
> The series with the Hyperactive Short Space Captain is the Vorkosigan Saga, by Lois McMaster Bujold. Here's the Goodreads list of the books in internal chronological order: [Vorkosigan](http://www.goodreads.com/series/98254-vorkosigan-saga-chronological)
> 
> The Chalion series (the one with the Quintarian gods) is three books, here at Goodreads: [Chalion](https://www.goodreads.com/series/43463-chalion)
> 
> The Napoleonic Wars with Dragons are by Naomi Novik, and are here, on Goodreads: [Temeraire](http://www.goodreads.com/series/43272-temeraire)
> 
> Bilbo's books are, of course, the history of Rohan: [Rohan](http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Rohan)
> 
> Tetrazzini (is not fourzini!) is here [Tetrazzini Wiki](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tetrazzini) and I make a version of it similar to this: [Tetrazzini Recipe](http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/chicken-tetrazzini-recipe.html)


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things always balance out, right?

The appetizers were delightful, and Bilbo found himself idly pressing his fingertip into the scattered seeds left at the bottom of one of the bowls as Thorin described life on tour. The silent waiter returned, swept the old dishes away and set plates in front of them with a line of colorful mounds of food, each only enough to make a couple of bites. He replaced the carafe of white wine with something else, slightly pink and bubbly. By the time Bilbo had nibbled his way through everything on his plate, exclaiming over each dish, Thorin was only half through his own serving, having spent most of his time smiling at Bilbo's enthusiasm. The next course was accompanied by a rich red wine and Bilbo couldn't keep from moaning in pleasure as the flavors of the wine and food mixed in his mouth. He licked his spoon clean carefully, then glanced at Thorin.

“Oh,” he said. “You've barely touched yours. Don't you like it?”

Thorin closed his eyes for a moment. He looked a bit flushed and Bilbo wondered if he was feeling ill. As he watched, worried, Thorin shifted in his seat and set his fork down. His fingers looked white where they'd been holding it. “I –“ Thorin coughed. “I like it very much. I don't think Bombur's ever made anything that isn't excellent.”

Before Bilbo could ask what was wrong, the curtains were pulled back and a huge man stepped forward. His dark rust colored hair was pulled back into a long looped braid and he wore a stained chef's jacket. 

“Well, that's good to hear,” he boomed, beaming at the two of them. His smile grew even wider when he saw Thorin's face. “Alison said you were here with a guest,” he said, leaning a shoulder against the post holding up the curtain. “I'd no idea –“

“I – yes, I'm just back in town for the day,” Thorin said quickly, “and Bilbo hadn't been here and, oh. Bombur, this is my,” he hesitated a second, then continued, “this is my friend Bilbo Baggins. Bilbo, this is Bombur, the chef and owner and magician of the House of UR.”

Bilbo extended his hand to be engulfed by Bombur's. “I'm _very_ pleased to meet you,” Bombur said, half bowing over Bilbo's hand. 

“Likewise,” Bilbo replied, smiling. “You're an amazing chef – I've no idea how you did half of what I've eaten and how I'll be able to go back to my own cooking.”

Bombur beamed at him. “Do you cook?”

“Yes. I was always in the kitchen when I was little and my mom said that if I was going to pester her, I should learn to help. So,” Bilbo grinned, “now I cook.” 

Thorin leaned forward. “You've said something about baking, haven't you?”

“Oh!” Bilbo sat up, putting his wine glass down a bit abruptly. “Where's my bag? Right.” He felt around under the table, pulling his bag into his lap. “If it's not too awful to do this in front of such an amazing chef, I brought you these.” He pulled a white box from his bag and handed it to Thorin. “I promised you snickerdoodles.”

Thorin took the box, looking a bit startled. “I said that... oh.” He opened the box and leaned in, inhaling. Beside him, Bombur also breathed in deeply.

“Vietnamese cinnamon?” He cocked a brow at Bilbo, who smiled. 

“I order it online,” he said. “Nothing else really compares. I prefer to make my own vanilla extract as well, and,” he chuckled, “I make truly deadly fruit liqueur.”

Bombur laughed. “You _must _come to one of the big Family Dinners.” He reached for the box and laughed again when Thorin pulled it away, closer to his chest. “Now Thorin, I just want one.”__

There are three dozen,” Bilbo said, amused at the byplay. “I'll be happy to make more and send them to whichever hotel you're stuck in next. Or I could make something else – chocolate chip? Mini pecan tarts?” 

Thorin looked up, eyes bright. “Linzer cookies?” After allowing Bombur to take one of the cookies, his hands curled around the corners of the box as if afraid it might escape. 

“Of course. I still have a couple jars of my mother's raspberry jam around the house.” 

The little waiter slid into the room around Bombur, gathering plates. He stopped and stared at Thorin's still mostly-full plate, then looked smug. Bombur nudged him and he dropped his gaze, but Bilbo could see a smile still on his face and that Bombur was grinning down at him. 

“Well, it was a true pleasure to meet someone who takes the art seriously,” Bombur said, “but I should get back. Thorin, he's to come to the next Dinner, don't forget.” The chef turned to Bilbo. “I await your liqueur with great anticipation.” 

The curtains fell heavily into place behind him and the waiter. Bilbo smiled at Thorin. “Your friends are all very interesting.” 

Thorin looked down. “Thanks, I think.” 

Bilbo laughed. “I've something else for you, but I think you hurt the waiter's feelings by not finishing.” 

Thorin snorted, but set the box aside and began eating. “You brought something else?” He looked at Bilbo over the edge of his wine glass and Bilbo caught his breath at the sparkle in Thorin's blue eyes. 

“Ah,” he faltered. “Just the ARC I mentioned. Nothing special.” 

“I've never gotten to read a book before it came out,” Thorin said. “It's almost as good as knowing an author.” 

Bilbo took a sip of wine, emptying his glass. _Oh dear. I must figure out how tell him who Bandobras Took is._

There were three more courses before the dessert course, each with its own wine or champagne. By the time small cups of coffee laced with cognac was served, accompanied by a large plate with delicate sweet confections, Bilbo felt very relaxed and happy. He sat, resting his chin in one hand and toying with the remains of a custard pastry as he watched Thorin across the table. 

Thorin paged randomly through the ARC, sipping his coffee and leaning comfortably back in the chair. The sun had set while they were eating and hidden lights flickered on; Bilbo wondered if they were actually candles. Thorin glowed in the warm light; his hair poured over one shoulder, the silver streaks glinting slightly. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, showing a hint of the dark hair curling just beyond where Bilbo could see. Thorin stroked the tip of one finger over his lips as he smiled at something in the book and Bilbo's breath caught. _Oh._ Bilbo couldn't look away. _Oh, I am in so much trouble._

Thorin looked up at him and smiled, his lips curving up slowly. He closed the book and set it aside. “Finished?” He gestured at the crumbs on the plate. 

Somehow, before Bilbo had a chance to quite understand, he found himself in the elevator going back down. Thorin stood close to him instead of against the far wall, his shoulder pressing against Bilbo's. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, turning to look down at him, and Bilbo wondered at how hoarse he sounded again. “Bilbo, I was wondering if you'd be –“ The elevator shivered as it settled to a stop and the doors opened. A small group of people was waiting for the elevator, and Thorin took Bilbo's hand suddenly before walking through the door. As Bilbo was pulled through the small crowd, he heard someone whisper, “Is that Thorin _Oakenshield_?” 

Thorin kept moving away from the crowd until they were just around a corner in the parking lot, hidden by a wide concrete post. His grip on Bilbo's hand shifted from fierce to gentle. His fingers curved around Bilbo's, and he looked down at their joined hands. Bilbo could feel the wine he'd had with dinner swirling through his veins, making everything slightly unreal and fantastical. His back was pressed against the rough concrete and he shivered. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin started again. He'd moved so he was facing Bilbo, their joined hands tucked into his chest. He leaned forward slowly, his eyes flicking between Bilbo's eyes and his lips. When he was close enough for Bilbo to feel his warm breath, still slightly scented by the coffee and dessert, he paused. Bilbo moaned and leaned up, pressing his lips to Thorin's, feeling a sudden rush of heat and pleasure. 

Thorin stiffened; just as Bilbo started to panic and pull back, he melted into Bilbo's kiss, wrapping his free arm around Bilbo, pulling him against his chest. Bilbo's hands found their way around Thorin's shoulders, fingers tangled in the heavy strands of his hair. For one blinding moment, Bilbo thought, _This is what I was missing._ then there wasn't room in his head for anything but the feel of Thorin's lips on his, the way his beard was just slightly scratchy, the way his hair slid through his fingers, the heat of him everywhere. 

* * * 

The next day, Bilbo found himself distracted any time he wasn't actively working on something. He'd been able to teach his Upper Division Inorganic Chemistry lab, but found himself pressing a finger against his lips just where Thorin's had first touched when he wasn't paying attention. 

“Come on, Bilbo,” he said under his breath as he unlocked the lab he and Ori were using, “get it together. He's in Dallas now and you're at –“ He broke off when he saw the absolute mess left on the lab benches. The glassware wasn't broken, but it wasn't in the experimental set up; it was lying scattered on the bench as if the set up had been taken apart with no thought to safely storing any of the glassware. 

“What the hell,” he said and dropped his bag on the desk. Ori's last notes in their notebook were about setting up a test run last night; he was here to check the results while Ori was working on his research. Bilbo gathered up the glassware and equipment, checking everything off against Ori's notes. Halfway through the list, he stopped. 

“Fucking Lobelia,” he snarled. “I told her to leave our stuff alone.” The palladium was missing, as well as several of the other reagents. “She's gone too far, this time. That experiment was _in progress_...” 

He set up the test run again, except for the missing ingredients, taped a note for Ori on the lab bench in front of the setup, and left the room, locking it carefully behind himself. _Although I don't know what good that's doing, since Lobelia's got the key as well._

She wasn't in their shared office and, after a moment's thought, he realized she didn't have any classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so she probably wasn't on campus at all. With gritted teeth – he really hated having to escalate this without talking to her first – he locked his office and went to visit the dean of the department. 

Two hours later, he stood in the middle of a new lab room, setting up the experiment again. Once everything was arranged, he poured in the final reagent, set the timer on the heater and sat down with the lab notebook to record everything. 

“Bilbo?” Ori's voice threaded under the door. Bilbo let him in and watched as he looked around. “Lobelia?” he asked. At Bilbo's expression, he wrinkled his nose. “She's not getting the keys to this lab, right?” 

Bilbo sighed, collapsing down into the seat. “No, and I've talked to the dean. I don't know what she was _thinking_.” 

Ori shook his head. “Can't help you, sorry. I've never understood her.” He checked the timer. “We lost all of it?” 

Bilbo shrugged. “I don't know how far that run got. It was completely taken apart when I got to it this afternoon.” He shifted the lab notebook in Ori's direction with his finger. “I recorded it all. I'm going home – I don't think I can take anything else today. Oh,” he twisted a key off his key ring. “Here's your key. I'm going to make a spare and keep it taped inside the filing cabinet in my office.” 

Ori nodded. “I'll go home as well – if this has been put off until tomorrow, I can get the baby blanket finished.” He grinned at Bilbo. “But I heard you had a date last night. How'd it go?” 

Bilbo felt his cheeks heat and covered his eyes at Ori's laugh. “Oh for fuck's sake, you and Nori gossip like old women,” he said, smiling. At Ori's raised brows, he lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay, yes, I had a date and yes, it went well and I'm not saying anything else.” 

Ori's laughter followed him out of the room, making him smile all the way to his car. 

Half an hour after getting home, he didn't think he'd ever smile again. The kitchen was a complete disaster, with two day old dishes on the table and in the sink, three pots on the stove half full of something Bilbo didn't want to try to identify, and something brown and sticky on the carpet in the living room. 

“Frodo,” Bilbo said, feeling his temper, already frayed beyond repair, shredding even further, “I asked you to clean up after yourself. I was out last night and I expected you to do what I'd asked.” 

“I said I'd get to it!” Frodo snapped, not turning away from his computer screen. Something on the screen exploded and he slammed his hands on his keyboard. “Now I'm dead. Thanks. Really.” 

Bilbo crossed his arms. “I do not care what happens in the _game_ you're playing, kid. I do care that you didn't follow through on your responsibilities. Get into the kitchen, clean it up, clean up whatever drink you spilled in the living room – and I mean clean it, not just wipe at it with a dirty rag – and then do your homework. If I catch you playing that damned game instead of doing your homework, I'm blocking your computer from going online for the rest of the week.” 

Frodo stormed past him and Bilbo waited just inside his office until he heard water running into the sink before he closed the door with a snap. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, breathing deeply and trying to calm down. He hadn't even managed to have lunch and now it was clear he wouldn't get dinner until Frodo was done in the kitchen. 

He checked his email; the school email was mostly official things about the change in labs and the actions planned against Lobelia. 

His personal email was empty. He pressed his finger against his lips again, but now the ghost of a memory felt cold and wrong. 


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo finally checks his email again, continues to piss off his cousin, and gets an armful of homemade muffins

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_My dear Bilbo,_

_Last night – yesterday? The day before? Was the best night I've had in longer than I can remember. I hope you had a good day – I hope you had as nice a time at dinner as I did. I didn't get any sleep on the plane to Dallas, all I could think about was you and how nice it was to spend time with you. There was a stopover in Chicago, but less than an hour so I stayed on the plane. Kili and Fili picked me up at the airport._

_I haven't had time to start reading the book you gave me. I'm looking forward to it, though. We had rehearsal this afternoon and for some reason my nephews wanted to take me to a sculpture museum beforehand. It was good, but I'm not sure I was able to pay attention to everything. There were some interesting statues but I'm not sure why they thought I needed to see them today._

_Can we meet again soon? Could you come to Dallas – there's this interesting sculpture museum I've been to! I don't even know if you like sculptures or what sort of art you like. I'm sorry if I spent the whole dinner talking about myself, thinking back, it seems like I never let you say anything._

_I've had to hide the box of snickerdoodles. Something funny happened, though – Dori saw them and started laughing. He said something about it being time for the rest of us to get treats, but then when I asked him what he meant, he just laughed again and said that his brother's lost his monopoly. I will never understand that family. Oh, but I just realized, the youngest of them is a chemistry student. I wonder if you'd have heard of him. But that doesn't make any sense, it's not as if there's only one chemistry department in the world. I don't even know if he's in school around here._

_It's nearly midnight and I haven't slept since Tuesday night. I should get to sleep, but I can't stop thinking about you. I hope you had a good day – do you teach on Thursdays?_

_Good night, Bilbo._

_Thorin_

* * *

“Dammit, Lobelia, you have no right to be angry with me for going to the dean. That was the third fucking time you've stolen lab supplies or equipment from me and I can't keep letting you get away with it.” 

Lobelia tightened her arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair in their office. “You didn't have to go to the dean, Bilbo, you could have waited until I came in today. Or you could have sent an email. For fuck's sake, I just needed to borrow the palladium for my gen chem lab students. Now I might be fucking suspended and I'll need to take some bullshit class on Honesty in the Workplace.”

“If you think for one second that I'm going to be sympathetic, then you're as stupid as you look right now. That test run was _in progress_ , you could have jeopardized the whole fucking experiment – Ori's graduate work is based on that! Hell, I've got three papers working from that set of test runs.” Bilbo threw up his hands. “Why couldn't you get the palladium from the stock room?” He watched as the clouds in her expression darkened. “Oh, I see. You pissed off Arwen. Again.”

Lobelia slammed her laptop closed and shoved it in her bag. “I have to go teach the brats now. I hope you're happy – you always come out of everything smelling like fucking roses, don't you?”

When she'd left the room, he sank down into his chair and covered his face with his hands. “Oh Lobelia, what the hell?” After sitting quietly for a few minutes, he turned back to his own laptop. “You can't take on her problems, Bilbo, you've got enough of your own,” he muttered. He spent the next hour grading quizzes and lab reports. When his phone alarm went off, he groaned, packed his supplies, and started walking to the classroom for inorganic chemistry.

The halls were very crowded and he kept his gaze distant as he threaded through the mass of hurrying students. A name caught his ear, and he slowed.

“Did you see Professor Bracegirdle? What the fuck crawled up her ass and died?” 

“Oh shit, really? I don't have her lecture until five. Crap.” 

Someone in the group laughed. “Yeah, good luck with that. She was practically spitting with rage when David asked questions.”

“Shit.”

Bilbo sighed and sped back up. _Not my problem._ He checked his watch. There was time, if he hurried, to get a cup of coffee from the chemistry office before he had to be at his own lecture. 

* * *

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_Tonight's concert is sold out and I think the boys are planning some sort of movie night in their room after the show. They've been laughing about something all day. On performance days I don't usually do much. I can't really concentrate beforehand, so I find I can't read anything that requires thought. Often I find that I've been watching something terrible on tv for hours. Kili's similar – he used to watch this show about little kids in beauty pageants, but his brother made him stop. I don't know what they're doing now._

_I might go to the hotel gym for a bit and run on the treadmill. I hope you're okay – did you get home safe from the restaurant?_

_Thorin  
_

* * *

“... and don't forget there's a mid-term coming up. You'll want to have all of this well figured out before then.” Bilbo waved at the groan from his students. “You all know the schedule, don't pretend.” 

“We keep hoping you'll forget!” someone called from the back of the room and Bilbo laughed.

“Unlikely, Fatima, but I guess one can always dream.” 

The class laughed as they packed up and left, a low chatter following them out of the room. The student who'd joked about forgetting the midterm carried her bag to the front. “Actually, Professor Baggins, I was hoping you could go over the stuff we did on Monday again.”

Bilbo nodded. “Sure, let's go to my –“ he broke off. _Lobelia's likely to be in our office now and there's no reason to ruin Fatima's day because Lobelia's upset._ “Let's swing by the study office upstairs. There's more room to spread out there.”

* * *

On the way to his car after work, Bilbo texted Frodo to ask if there was anything he wanted from the grocery store. He didn't get a response until he was halfway through shopping. 

“More soda and chips. And chocolate. Of course.” 

He shoved the cart to start it moving again and wandered down the aisle. _Stop fucking thinking about Thorin. If he'd been interested, he'd have emailed yesterday._ He dropped two bags of corn chips into the cart. _What about nachos for dinner? We haven't had those in a while and Frodo always likes them._ Three packages of chicken thighs went into the cart and he stood staring at the racks of sausages. _I wonder if Thorin likes Mexican food. We didn't really talk about much, somehow we kept getting distracted. He seemed so nice._ He ran a hand over his face and went back to shopping. _No thinking about anything that isn't shopping or writing._

_I wonder if he'd be mad at me for not telling him I'm Bandobras Took._

* * *

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Bilbo,_

_The concert starts in an hour and I'm so distracted I can barely walk. You haven't responded and I haven't seen any news reports of car crashes, so I can only think that you're busy in class. I should write down your schedule, shouldn't I? It would save worrying._

_There's nothing scheduled after the concert, and I think Gloin and Bifur want to go out for dinner, but I'm still exhausted so I think I'll come back here and crash. I hope you're okay._

_Good night!_

_Thorin  
_

* * *

Bilbo sat in the living room, a book propped on his knee, feet up on his grandfather's ottoman, with a cup of cooling tea on the little table at his side. Deathless stood next to his teacup, glaring at the stack of books precariously balanced on the table edge. 

Bilbo stared out window at the growing dark. Frodo was banging around in the kitchen, washing dishes, singing along to something playing on the radio. After a moment, a commercial started, and Frodo continued to play along, pretending to be all of the different stupid characters. Bilbo smiled into his book. 

“Hey Bilbo,” Frodo called. “I'm getting some ice cream. Want some?”

Bilbo laughed under his breath and stood up. _Where does he put it all?_ “Sure, kid,” he said, pocketing Deathless and coming into the kitchen. “And I want it with some of the chocolate sauce. And maybe a cherry or two.”

Frodo laughed. “Coming right up.” He turned and started scooping strawberry ice cream from the tub, dropping curls of it into bowls. “So where were you on Wednesday, anyway? I, uh.” He tipped the jar of chocolate sauce over Bilbo's bowl, then over his own. “I'm sorry for not cleaning up. I meant to, I really did.” He set Bilbo's bowl in front of him and sat down at the table with his own. 

Bilbo spooned some of the chocolate sauce into his mouth. “I was out having dinner with, ah –“ He stirred the ice cream around in his bowl. “Well, with Thorin.”

Frodo brightened. “Really? How was it? Was he nice? Where'd you go?”

Bilbo smiled down at his bowl. “We went to a restaurant in San Francisco, near the radio station office. It's upstairs, they had these private booths. The food was amazing.”

“Yeah?” Frodo scraped at the bottom of his bowl. “But was _he_ nice?”

Bilbo set his spoon aside. “He was. I gave him a book to read and we talked about being on tour. It doesn't sound very nice.” 

“And now let's play the latest song from Erebor!” the bright voice from the radio interjected, and Frodo laughed.

They sat listening to the song for a moment; it was one of the songs Bilbo had heard at the summer concert. Bilbo pulled Deathless from his pocket and stood him where he could keep an eye on the the empty bowls. 

“I miss summertime,” Frodo said. He rested his head on his crossed arms on the table but extended an arm to poke at Deathless. “The summer was good.”

Bilbo leaned his chin in his hand. “What's up, kiddo?”

“Nothing.” Frodo rolled his head to the side. “There's a girl at school.”

“Oh.” The Erebor song ended and another one started. This one seemed to be about someone complaining about losing his girlfriend because he didn't dance enough. “Is she pretty?”

“I dunno. Her name's Rosie.” Frodo sat up, but his fingers tangled together on the table. “Did you kiss him?”

“Huh?” 

“ _Thorin_ , did you kiss him?” Frodo grinned at Bilbo, waggling his eyebrows extravagantly.

Bilbo laughed. “That, young man, is none of your business.”

“So you did! Was he any good?” Frodo's grin widened.

“I didn't say we kissed,” Bilbo said. “Do you want to invite this Rosie over?”

Frodo stood up, shoving his chair back. His hair fell across his face as he leaned over to clear away the ice cream bowls. “No, she's at Sam's house.” He left the kitchen so quickly that Bilbo thought he might have actually run down the hall.

_Ah._

* * *

Bilbo sat in his office, staring at the document with the outline for the two extra novels he'd promised to Nori. He'd been trying to write for half an hour and nothing worked. Anything he started to write sounded trite and contrived. “Oh for crying out loud,” he said. “This is ridiculous. You're not a teenager any more. If he hasn't emailed, there's no reason not to email him.” He heaved a sigh and opened Gmail. 

“Oh,” he said.

* * *

_To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Thorin,_

_How was the concert? I hope it went better than the one with the bad ... speaker? Amplifer? I don't remember now what had gone wrong._

_Why didn't you sleep on the plane? It's only a three hour ride – how could your nephews have dragged you to a museum when you landed? It would have been the middle of the night, surely?_

_I'm so sorry I didn't respond right away. I didn't get the first email_

Bilbo re-opened the first email Thorin had sent and checked. It had been sent at about 11pm on Thursday night. 

_I had a terrible day Thursday and I didn't check my email until the evening. You hadn't written, so I didn't check again. Today's been better, but only by a little bit. At least it's Friday and I don't have to see anyone from work for a couple of days. I don't usually check my email during the day at school. I guess I should start checking. I could give you my cell phone number and we could text?_

_One of my co-workers is acting very unprofessionally, which is making everything a bit difficult right now. It's made worse by the fact that she's a cousin, sort of, so yesterday's bad stuff will probably get re-hashed at the family dinners for at least a year._

_I don't know if I could come to Dallas. It would have to be a very short trip and I can't take off during the week. I've never been to Texas, though. Is it a nice place?_

_You should get some sleep. I'll email again tomorrow._

_Sleep tight._

_Bilbo  
_

Bilbo opened the folder with his story and settled in. He read over the last few pages and started typing.

* * *

The next morning, Frodo was still in bed when Sam knocked on the glass door from the kitchen into the back yard. Bilbo slid the door open and Sam slithered past him, holding a large bundle wrapped in a tea towel against his chest. 

“What's that,” Bilbo asked, as Sam lowered the towel to the table. Several steaming muffins rolled out, and Bilbo laughed. “Oh, go on and bring him some. He's still asleep.” Sam nodded, but didn't move. “Is there something wrong, Sam?”

Sam collapsed into the same chair Frodo had been in the night before. He dropped his head into his hands. “There's this girl at school, she's new.”

“Yes?” Bilbo started making coffee. He waved an empty cup at Sam, who nodded. “So, there's a girl?”

“Her name's Rosie and she's beautiful. She's so smart – she's in Physics and Advanced English, and I think she likes me.”

Bilbo set a cup of coffee in front of Sam then put pots of cream and sugar down as well, stirring some of each into his own cup. “That's a good thing, right?”

Sam dropped the muffin he'd started to peel the paper liner away from. “Yes. No. I don't know. I mean –“ He broke off and wrapped his hands tight around the cup. “I like her, she's real nice. And she smells good and she's friendly and bouncy, but there's, well.” He coughed. “There's Frodo. I like him too, and I don't know what to do.”


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many things come to the surface at Bag End.

Over the next two weeks, Bilbo found himself and Thorin emailing back and forth several times a day. When Thorin first sent him a text, he couldn't stop laughing at the picture of Fili and Kili asleep draped over the couch in their shared hotel room. He sent back a picture of Gimli with Frodo and the rest arguing over something on the comic book television show they were watching in the living room. Thorin relayed a response from Gloin; Bilbo couldn't understand any part of it past that it had to do with elf stats, so he read it out to Gimli, who laughed, and sent a text from his own phone.

Within days, he didn't go more than two hours without sending or receiving a text from Thorin. 

Working in the same office as Lobelia had been increasingly tense, so that weekend, Bilbo told Ori to have a weekend off with his brother and he packed himself, Frodo - and after a little negotiation, Sam - up and drove down to his family's house in Hobbiton. Dinner was a loud and happy affair at which Sam and Frodo tried to explain their latest exploits in their game while avoiding talking about school. After they disappeared upstairs with a whole batch of ginger cookies, Bella sat down with Bilbo in the conservatory at the back of the house with a plate of raisin and cinnamon scones, a large pot of tea, and a happy smile.

“So tell me, darling,” she said, pouring milk into her teacup and pushing his childhood mug across to him. “Lobelia's being difficult again?” She laughed at his expression.

He groaned. “Why is she like this? I mean, it's not as if she gains anything but bad feeling.” He took a bite of scone and sighed. “Oh mom, I missed your baking.”

She chuckled. “Well, it's always here. If you'd come home more often...” She sipped her own tea, then picked up a pile of yarn which, after a quick shake, turned into a long piece of knitting with intricate cables worked along the length. “As for Lobelia, she's always been this way. It runs in the family. I remember when her mother tried to get me to give her your father's grandmother Berylla's good china. As if I'd give her anything.” 

Bilbo leaned back in his chair, letting his mother's chatter wash over him, feeling peaceful for the first time since he'd found Lobelia's theft. His father came in and sat down in the armchair across from Bella; he scooped her feet up into his lap and grinned at Bilbo when she yelped. 

“So lad,” he said, “how's the writing coming?” He pulled the knit blanket off the arm of the chair and over his lap, covering Bella's feet as he did. 

Bilbo ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I think I've got two more books in the series, but then it's absolutely over. I have to finish this book first, though, and it's being a right bitch.” He picked up another scone and stared sadly into his empty tea mug before pouring another cup. He waved the teapot at his parents, but they shook their heads. Bella was counting stitches under her breath and Bilbo paused so as to not get in the way.

“I've got all the pieces in place, but something's wrong. I can't quite figure out what I need – I think I've got one of the characters all wrong. Everything I try with him comes out wooden and ...” He dropped his head back. 

“Let me read it?” His father dipped the last of his scone in his tea. “Maybe you need fresh eyes. Do you have the second one where you can get to it?”

“It's up in my room,” Bilbo said, “on the laptop. I'd love you to read it. I've got edits for the second one that Nori sent; I haven't had time to deal with them yet. I'll do those tomorrow, I think. The boys were thinking of running round to Bree for the day.”

Bella looked up. “What's going on there? Something's up – Frodo isn't acting right. He snapped at Sam before dinner – actually lost his temper – and Sam just let him.”

“Ah, yes.” Bilbo leaned forward. “There's a new girl at school and she seems to be inadvertently coming between Frodo and Sam. I'm not sure that she realizes it, but it's causing real problems.”

“The course of true love,” Bungo said, but then he started to cough. Bilbo and Bella glanced at each other as the coughing fit continued. After a minute, Bungo stopped coughing and leaned back in the chair, breathing heavily. “Oh stop looking at me like that, the two of you,” he gasped, clearly irritated. “The doctor says it'll go away eventually and that there's nothing else wrong with me.”

“Against all evidence,” Bilbo said, his voice dry. “You're thinner than you were.”

Bella's hands dropped to her lap as she turned to her husband. “See, you are losing weight, it's not my imagination. Maybe we need to try a different doctor. There's that nice man Donnamira told us about, why don't we try him?”

Bilbo set his mug down. “Well, I vote for trying someone new. There's no harm in a second opinion.”

“Fine,” Bungo said, only a little hoarsely. “You'll never leave me be otherwise. Now tell me what's going on with Frodo.” 

“I'm not sure,” Bilbo said, watching his father carefully. “Sam came over one morning, oh, a couple weeks ago now, and said that he likes both Frodo _and_ Rosie, but I'm not sure if he really means as romantic partners or what. I thought he was interested in Frodo, ah –“

“Yes, as a boyfriend, don't be coy. We're old, but we're not blind.” His mother's voice was very tart. “And we raised you, we know what we're looking at.”

Bilbo snorted. “Right then. I thought he and Sam _were_ boyfriends, actually, and Sam wasn't willing to be public about it, but now Frodo's broody and Sam seems to think Frodo's not interested.” He sighed. “I'm so glad I'm not a teenager any more. I don't know why anyone says they want to go back to high school.”

His parents laughed. “They peaked early?” 

Just then, his phone's text notification went off. 

“Who's texting you this late?” Bella didn't look up from her knitting until Bungo started chuckling. Then she glanced between them; her eyes lit up when she saw Bilbo's slow blush. “Oh? So who is it?”

Bilbo sighed and pulled out his phone. 

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_How'd the drive go? Did the boys behave or did they have another fight? Text me when you go to bed?_

Bilbo smiled at his phone, then groaned at his parents' laughter. “I might have met someone recently.”

“Oh really?” Bungo leaned forward. “What's his name?”

Bilbo cleared his throat. “Thorin Durin. I met him at the concert Frodo dragged me to in September.”

“Thorin ... “ Bella stared at him. “Never tell me you're getting texts from the lead singer of _Erebor_?”

Bungo glanced at her. “The one with all the hair? Wasn't little Daisy saying something about him the other day?”

Bella nodded, her eyes never leaving Bilbo's face. “Yes dear,” she said softly. “She was saying that he said in some interview that he'd met someone really important.” 

Bilbo could feel his blush deepen. “Okay, mom, yes, it's that Thorin.”

“Well, it isn't as if it's a common name,” his father said. 

“You met him at the concert? How'd you manage that?” Bella had gone back to looking at her knitting, but her fingers were still. 

“There was an after-show party and we met there. I mean, it was for the fans.” Bilbo sighed as his father started to laugh. “Right. Frodo got tickets to the party with the tickets to the concert itself, but he needed an adult, so there I went. Thorin was pretty irritable, but the other band members were nice. One of them likes to play the same games as the boys, so they ended up having a good time talking.” He poured another cup of tea. 

“Anyway, I accidentally left my phone there, and when I went back to the radio station the next Monday to pick it up, Thorin was there to deliver it to me. He was reading my book so I asked him what he thought and,” he paused, “and then we started talking on email.”

“Is that all?” Bella smirked at him.

He covered his eyes. “No, we went out to dinner once. He's in Dallas right now and then they're on tour up the East coast.”

“Ah.” Bungo and Bella smiled at each other. “That does sound like it would complicate things. Would you like to invite him to Thanksgiving dinner?”

Bilbo sat straight up. “What, here? With the whole family, and the Old Took to interrogate him? I don't think so!”

Bella laughed. “You'll have to bring him around sooner or later, you know. And honestly, after Smeagol, he'll be a delight, I'm sure.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, mom. I think so, too.” Bilbo stood up. “I'm off to bed. Dad, I'll give you the books to read tomorrow?”

* * *

“I don't want to go,” Frodo shouted down the stairs, as Bilbo's parents and Sam were getting ready to go to the farmer's market the next morning. Sam's shoulders curved in and he stuck his hands in his pants pockets.

“Sam,” Bilbo said, “I know you want to go, so go ahead. I'll stay here and talk to Frodo.” He patted the teenager on the shoulder. “Has he been this way all morning?”

Sam nodded, face miserable. “He was fine when we woke up, but then I got a text from Rosie and now he's ... well.” He looked up the stairs, but didn't move to climb them. “I don't know, Professor. I guess I'll have to find a way to tell Rosie we can't be friends.”

Bilbo sighed. “Don't do that yet, okay? I'm sure we can figure this out before you do anything drastic. You go and have fun – buy something outrageous and see if my mother can cook it.”

Sam smiled wanly and shuffled out the door. 

“You tell that boy to mind his manners,” Bella said. “I don't care that he's living in your house, that's no way to treat someone who's been as good a friend to him as Sam has.” She shut the door firmly behind herself.

Bilbo walked upstairs. Frodo was in his room, sitting on one of the two twin beds with his arms crossed. 

“I'm NOT going,” he said as Bilbo came into the room.

“I'm not going to make you,” Bilbo said. The only place to sit was on the other bed, which Sam had left neatly made up. “You've been kind of irritable recently, kiddo. Anything you want to talk about?”

“Oh give it up, no. No, I don't want to talk about it.”

Bilbo nodded. “Okay. I'll be downstairs working in the kitchen. Come down when you want breakfast.”

Half an hour later, Bilbo was sitting at the table in the breakfast nook, reading over the edits Nori had sent. He looked up when Frodo edged his way into the kitchen. “There's coffee,” Bilbo said, “and I think mom left you something in the microwave.”

Frodo banged the microwave door, slammed the coffee cup on the counter, spilled milk as he poured it into the cup, then tossed the plate of bacon and pancakes onto the table across from Bilbo, who just raised his eyebrows at him. 

“You'll be wiping up that mess before my mother gets home,” he said.

“Fine,” Frodo snapped, biting sharply into his bacon. He ploughed through his first plateful, then went back to the stove and slid the last five pancakes onto his plate, drowning them in syrup before coming back to the table.

Bilbo sat quietly, watching as Frodo cut the pancakes into smaller and smaller pieces. Finally, when there was little but mush on his plate, Frodo dropped his fork into the mess and covered his face.

“I don't understand why he can't just be _my_ friend. Why she have to come and ruin things?”

Bilbo breathed in slowly. _Ah, at last._

“Sam isn't still your friend?”

“He spends all his time with her, or talking about her.” Frodo shoved the plate away and collapsed onto the table, his face buried in his crossed arms. “She's so _pretty_ , she's so _smart_ , did you know that she's been to England and Scotland. It's all Sam can talk about. "

Bilbo smiled, glad Frodo couldn't see. “Is she nice?”

Frodo heaved a sigh. “Yes. She's really fucking nice and she's funny. _AND_ she plays our game, but why can't she be interested in Pippin or something?”

At Bilbo's snort, Frodo rolled his head to the side and grinned up at him. “Well, okay yeah, maybe not _Pippin_. But there are loads of boys she could like.” He paused, then buried his face again. What he said next was nearly entirely muffled. “Sam's mine.”

Bilbo leaned back, thinking hard. “Frodo –“

Frodo sat up. “I _know_ he's not mine, I _know_ he's a person and he can like whoever the fuck he wants, _I know all that shit_ , Bilbo, don't treat me like I'm fucking stupid. But ...” His face crumpled. “But he was _my_ friend, and I miss him.”

“He misses you,too, I think,” Bilbo said, not sure how to ask his next question. “Ah, Frodo? Are you in love with him?”

Frodo shifted so his forehead was on the table and his arms wrapped around his entire head. “I dunno. Does it matter?”

“It might,” Bilbo said slowly. “I have to admit, I thought the two of you were ...” Bilbo broke off, not sure exactly what kids Frodo's age called it. He wouldn't have called it anything, himself, as he'd been unwilling to admit to himself that he wasn't interested in girls until he got to college. 

“What, a couple? He's not interested. He's never been interested.” Frodo slammed away from the table, snatching up his plate and scraping the ruined pancakes into the trash bin. He dropped the plate into the sink with the others from breakfast and leaned on it, glaring daggers into the soapy soaking water. “Why would he be interested in _me_ when there's beautiful fucking _Rosie_ to talk to?”

Bilbo sighed. _And yet again I'm reminded of why I never want to go back to being a teenager._ “Have you asked him?”

“Asked him?” Frodo spun around, then simpered, holding one hand under his chin. “Oh, Saaaaaam, I was wondering if you wanted to be my boooyyyyyfriend?”

Bilbo snorted again. “Not like that, you great prat. I mean, have you asked Sam how he feels about you and about Rosie?”

Frodo crossed his arms tightly around his chest. “No. I don't want to. Why should I?”

Bilbo stood up and reached for the coffee pot, re-filling his cup. “Because the answer might not be what you expect. And it can't be worse than this constant anger, right? At least then you'll know where you two stand.”


	15. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rendezvous and meetings.

Bilbo parked in the lot at Frodo's school. A couple of older kids passed him in the hall as he walked to Frodo's homeroom teacher's office. He knocked on the half-open door and leaned in. “Hey, Bard, am I late?”

The dark haired man behind a cluttered desk looked up at him, then at the clock over the door. He laughed shortly. “No, you're exactly on time, as you know. Come in.”

Bilbo grinned, shut the door behind himself, and sat down. “So, how's Frodo doing this year?”

Bard closed the files on his desk, shifting them to the pile on his right. “He started out okay, but there's something going on right now. I think there's something gone wrong with him and Sam.”

“Ah yes,” Bilbo said, “that's come up at home as well. I think her name's Rosie?”

Bard nodded. “She's new, a transfer.” He sighed. “I'm sure they'll figure it out. Now, about his scores in Algebra...”

As Bilbo left, nearly an hour later, the halls were filled with students between classes. He threaded through the crowd, internally amused at the similarities between the high school students and his college students. He slowed when he heard Sam's voice around a corner. 

“I don't know, Frodo. I didn't ask her.” He sounded anxious. “She just said that she's going away for the weekend, she didn't say where.” 

Bilbo couldn't hear Frodo's response, but after a moment Sam said, “I was hoping we could get together, you know, the four of us, like usual, and have a game.”

Bilbo sighed and walked down a different corridor. _Oh boy._

Outside, as he walked through the throngs of kids leaving for home, he saw a group of girls surrounding a short girl with blonde hair drawn up into a very curly ponytail. He started to walk around them, but paused when he overheard one of them say, “Oh, but isn't it exciting that they both like you, Rosie?”

The girl with the ponytail looked up at her friend. She looked furious and unhappy. “No, Lottie, it's not exciting. It's terrible.” She turned and started to walk away but another of the group grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “Stop it,” Rosie snapped, and Bilbo could see that her eyes were red rimmed. “Just leave me alone.”

Bilbo walked slowly to his car and sat until the clouds of kids disappeared. _At least Sam and Frodo are right, she is a nice girl._

The rest of the week was filled with increasingly excited Halloween plans. By Friday, Bilbo's house was filled with discarded bits of costume. Pippin and Merry seemed to be dressing up as trees or a forest – Bilbo wasn't sure. The costumes reminded him of the apple-throwing trees from _The Wizard of Oz_ , which made him laugh internally every time he saw them. Sam and Frodo appeared to have forgotten their difficulties and were dressed up as Luke and Han. The four of them went off just before dark, each with one of Bilbo's cloth shopping bags. 

He spent the evening on his front porch with his laptop and with a bowl of candy next to him. As he handed out candy to the kids trooping through the neighborhood, he sent emails to his family, to Thorin, and to Petunia and Drogo, all with pictures of the boys' costumes. 

He knew that there was going to be a big party after the Halloween concert – Thorin had been complaining about it for the past few days. They'd moved from just emails and texts to actual phone calls, and Bilbo had surprised himself with his ability to react like a teenager to simple things like hearing the voice of someone he had a crush on. 

That night, listening to the four boys laughing down the hall, he curled up with his phone in bed. Thorin had sent him photographs his nephews had taken of him – and also of themselves – in the outfits they were wearing for the Halloween concert. The concert was over now and they were at the big costume party after the show. Most of the pictures were of Thorin's whole outfit, but Bilbo's favorite was one with just Thorin's face.

He was looking out of the picture, laughing at something someone just outside the frame. His hair had fallen out of the elaborate braids it had been put up in for the show, the dark eyeliner he was wearing was slightly smudged, his cheeks were bright red and he looked animated and delighted. Bilbo saved that photo to his phone's memory, then set the phone – still showing the picture – on the other pillow and went to sleep.

* * *

_To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Thorin,_

_Well, you appeared to have survived the costume party, if the pictures Fili and Kili sent me are accurate. How was the concert itself? Are you recovering okay? You have the rest of the weekend off, don't you?_

_Lobelia hasn't done anything else, thanks for asking. She's been moved to a different office and I've a new office-mate, a young man called Beorn. He's in the Biology department and has the strangest collection of pets I've ever seen. He came with a glass tank with an orange-kneed tarantula which he calls Shelob, of all things. He's got a couple of lizards as well, and he's mentioned something about a menagerie at home. It makes for a much livelier office, I'll say. Shelob is surprisingly friendly and much softer than I expected a spider to be._

_So, what do you think about this? I've a symposium next week in Colorado, from the 5th to the 7th. I could fly from there to meet you on the East Coast for the weekend, if you want. Frodo can stay with Sam's family – maybe they'll work things out if they're forced to be together. I don't have to be home until the next Monday, the 10th. I thought I might fly back on Sunday night._

_Does that sound good to you? Where are you going to be?_

_Bilbo  
_

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_YES YES TO ALL OF THAT YES_

_Thorin  
_

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Wait, what was that about a spider in your office? Is it LOOSE? WHY DOES HE LET A SPIDER LOOSE?_

_Thorin  
_

* * *

“You'll be okay, right? I'll call once a day to check and you can text me at any time.” Bilbo shut his suitcase and laughed as Frodo rolled his eyes. 

“ _Yes_ , Uncle Bilbo, I'll be fine. I've stayed at Sam's before and it'll be fun. Like camping out with my ....” He paused and rubbed his nose. “With my best friend,” he finished.

Bilbo sank down onto his bed. “Still haven't talked to Sam?”

“No.” Frodo crossed his arms, head down. “I don't know what to do, Bilbo. He's said that he'll stop being friends with her if that's what I want, but she's nice and he likes her. I don't want to make him stop being friends with someone he likes.”

Bilbo sighed. “Oh, Frodo.” He patted the bed next to himself. “Come here, kid.” Frodo collapsed onto the bed next to him. “It'll be okay,” Bilbo said. “I know it might not seem like it now, but it'll work out. You and Sam'll be friends, one way or another, forever.”

Frodo nodded, shoulders curved forward. “I dunno.” After a short silence, he perked up. “But you'll be spending the weekend with Thorin! Text me pictures?”

Bilbo snorted. “I'll send you pictures, sure. I think we're going to see some museums. Truly fascinating for you, I'm sure.”

Frodo grinned at him. “Hey, there's paintings of naked people in museums.”

* * *

Bilbo stood in front of a room full of people answering questions about the paper he'd just presented on some of the work he and Ori had done. There weren't very many; this was mainly a preliminary paper so he and Ori could be sure to claim the techniques. The lights came up and the room filled with the sounds of people moving, nudging seats, shuffling papers, and, he was amused to hear, a clear discussion of what the lunch service was going to be.

“So, you're our Dr Baggins,” said a rich voice at the foot of the dais. Bilbo looked up and saw a shortish, stocky older man with a full white beard and sparkling blue eyes smiling at him. 

“Well, I'm certainly Dr Baggins,” Bilbo said, “but I don't think we've met?”

The man laughed. “In passing, I believe, Dr Baggins, but not formally, no. I'm Dr Balin Jarnnave, and you've certainly met my younger brother.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his tweed coat as Bilbo came down the dais stairs. “We've a mutual friend who, apparently, can't stop talking about you.”

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. “Really? I can't say that I've any idea of whom you're speaking.”

Balin laughed. “My younger brother's Dwalin, and you met –“

“Oh! Oh of course, I didn't ... I mean, I don't know that I ever knew his last name and, well, he was more interested in making sure the kids I was with didn't drink.” Bilbo relaxed. “But who's the – oh.” He ran a hand over his face as Balin laughed. They turned toward the doors and started walking. “Are you a chemist?”

Balin nodded. “Of sorts. I do mainly synthetic chemistry, but I dabble in nucleic acids every so often.” 

Bilbo snorted. “Interesting hobby. Are you local?”

They continued chatting as they left the room and joined the general throng heading for lunch.

That Friday, Balin caught up with Bilbo as he was waiting with his packed bags for his ride to the airport.

“Oh good,” Balin said, “I didn't miss you.” He rummaged around in his pockets, then pulled out a small package wrapped in newspaper and twine. “Could you give this to Dwalin please, when you see him this weekend? It's his birthday and he'll get it a lot faster if it doesn't go by mail.”

Bilbo took it, smiling. “No secrets between any of you, are there?”

“Ha! No, not so much. Sorry if you expected this to have been a secret rendezvous. You'll soon learn that this family's a lot like a gossipy small town.”

“I've lots of experience with that,” Bilbo said. “As long as we've our own room, I think things'll be okay.”

Balin waggled his eyebrows and smirked, and Bilbo suddenly saw the resemblance between the brothers. 

* * *

The flight was short, but Bilbo could feel himself getting anxious. _What if this is all a mistake and we don't really like each other?_ As the plane started to descend, he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. _That's why you're doing this, you idiot. The only way to tell if you want to go further is trying._

Once in Baltimore's airport, he walked as fast as possible to the elevator bank to go down to baggage claim, smiling blankly at the other travelers in the elevator. As the doors opened, he realized he and Thorin hadn't set up a way for him to get to Thorin's hotel. _I'll catch a cab or a shuttle. There's sure to be one, it's a big hotel._

His bag wasn't one of the first out onto the conveyer belt, and when it did finally drop down, it fell on top of another bag so it was riding close to the top edge of the belt. He sighed and reached for it, hoping he could grab it before it pulled him over when a strong, tattooed hand reached over his shoulder and yanked it up.

“Hey,” he said. “That's my – oh, hullo Dwalin.” 

Dwalin stood, Bilbo's suitcase in one hand and his carry-on satchel in the other. “Ready?” he said, grinning toothily. 

Bilbo laughed. “Lead on. I've a present for you.”

“I know,” Dwalin said. “My brother emailed me.” As they moved through the crowd, Bilbo noticed that people seemed to melt out of Dwalin's way – he wasn't sure if it was the tattoos on his head, arms and hands, or if it was the sheer bulk of the man, but it was almost as if there wasn't any crowd in front of Dwalin. _Like a quantum effect, huh._

“Thorin wanted to come,” Dwalin continued, glancing over his shoulder. “But he wasn't sure you'd want the fuss that'd happen if he showed up here.”

Bilbo's brows drew together. “Fuss? What do you mean?”

"Well, he tends to draw attention when he's out in public, especially when he's in town for a concert. It's not so bad when they're not on tour."

They walked through the cars in the parking garage until Dwalin stopped in front of a Jeep. It was dented and slightly rusty, with extremely wide tires and some sort of tube running from the engine up the side of the front window.

“Ah, you can rent something like this?” Bilbo stared at it as Dwalin dropped his bags in the back seat.

“Rent? Nah, this is mine. Isn't she sweet?” Dwalin backed out of the parking space. “I haven't taken her off road since the summer – touring is terrible for doing anything fun – but I'm hoping to get some time up in the snow this winter.” He smiled at Bilbo as he wove the boxy car through traffic. “How're your boys doing? Still trying to get beer?”

Bilbo laughed. “They remember you with fear and terror.”

Dwalin's laugh boomed out and filled the car. “Good. That'll keep them out of trouble for, oh, two seconds. I know their type. You should have seen Fili and Kili when they were younger.”

Bilbo spent the rest of the drive happily listening to increasingly improbable stories about what Thorin's nephews had gotten up to as children 

At the hotel, Dwalin pulled up at the front door. “Go on in. I'll park this beast and bring your bag up. I'm sure you're in a hurry. He's in room 1512. He's waiting.” His smirk made Bilbo wish he'd lost the ability to blush. 

Bilbo grabbed his satchel from the back seat, waved to Dwalin, and walked into the largest lobby he'd ever seen. Staircases zigzagged up the side walls, and the whole space was filled with golden light. A young woman greeted him from the concierge desk at the far end of the space. He walked to the elevators and waited, feeling himself tense up again.

Upstairs, the elevator doors slid open silently and he stepped out onto the 15th floor. 1512 was to his left, so he walked down the hall and knocked on the door.

“I swear to god, Kili, if you've come to give me one more – oh.” Thorin swung the door open and stopped halfway through his tirade, staring at Bilbo.

_I always forget how blue his eyes are._

“Bilbo, you're here.” Thorin reached out and pulled him into the room. “Come in, it's so good to see you.” He moved back, his eyes nervous but his mouth smiling. Suddenly, all Bilbo could think about was that mouth, those lips, the explosive way it had felt when they'd kissed.

Bilbo dropped his bag and stepped forward, sliding his hands into Thorin's loose hair. “It's good to see you, too,” he said. He tugged gently, pulling Thorin closer. After a second's hesitation, Thorin surged forward, wrapping his arms around Bilbo; one hand found its way to Bilbo's hip and the other buried itself in the hair at Bilbo's nape. 

Then there was nothing but the kiss, filling Bilbo with heat and light and joy.


	16. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family meals are always fun.

Thorin pulled away slightly and rested his forehead against Bilbo's. He was breathing heavily.

"Are you hungry?" His fingers slid against Bilbo's neck. "The flight can't have been comfortable. Why wouldn't you let me get you upgraded?" He didn't let Bilbo answer, but used his thumb to lift Bilbo's chin again so he could press his lips against Bilbo's. Bilbo huffed out a small breath and opened his mouth, deepening the kiss. 

Several minutes later, something thumped against the door. Bilbo had the idea that there might have been knocking for a few moments, but he hadn't really been paying attention. 

Thorin pulled Bilbo closer and snarled at the door, "I'm _busy_."

"Bilbo'll want his luggage, though." Dwalin sounded amused.

Bilbo laughed softly, leaning his head against Thorin's chest. "I'm starving," he said. "There wasn't any food on the flight."

Thorin sighed, then started to chuckle. "I've been looking forward to seeing you for so long." He buried his face in Bilbo's hair, then stood and turned to the door. "All right," he said, laughing lightly and pulling it open.

Dwalin stood in the hall, Bilbo's bag resting against his shins. "Hey there," he grinned at Bilbo. "Nice to see you found him. I'll just leave this here for you." He strode in, dropping the bag at a door Bilbo hadn't noticed. Then Dwalin turned to Thorin. "The ride to dinner's in ten minutes, so don't get too distracted. You don't want the boys coming up here to get you."

Thorin groaned and ran a hand over his face. "True enough," he said, guiding Dwalin out of the room. "We'll be down before you leave." For a moment after he shut the door behind Dwalin, Thorin leaned against the door. Then he turned, and Bilbo was relieved to see that his expression was amused. "Sure you don't want to stay here and order room service?"

Bilbo shrugged. "I'm here to see you, so if you'd rather, that's okay with me. As long as I get to eat _something_ , I'm pretty easy to please."

Thorin tucked his hands in his pockets, walking back to Bilbo. "They'll just hound us if we stay here. And anyway, I want you to meet them all." He wrapped his arms around Bilbo's waist again and leaned in, gently pressing his lips to Bilbo's. "I can't believe you're here."

Bilbo smiled up at him. "It's not someplace I ever expected to be, that's for sure. Where are we going for dinner?" He stepped back slightly, looking around the room. Now that he was less distracted by Thorin, he could look at the hotel room. _Some room. More like a little apartment. Wow._

"Oh, there's a local place Dori knows about. You said you like Thai food, so we thought ..." 

"Yeah, that's great." Bilbo stretched, bending backwards with his hands at the small of his back. "Is there a washroom here? I mean, that's dumb, where's the washroom. I want to wash my face, I feel all sticky from the plane."

Thorin jumped. "Oh, let me show you around and then -" he checked his watch. "We should go, if we don't want to have Fili and Kili up here." He opened a door near the door to the outside hall, showing a long, granite tiled bathroom with a large glassed-in shower and a pile of fluffy towels. "Here's the bathroom. When you come out, I'll show you the rest of the suite."

As Bilbo was drying his face on one of the towels, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. For a moment, he felt overwhelmed, then he closed his eyes and said, just barely aloud, "Go to hell, Smeagol." and left the room. Thorin's smile as he walked up to him was blinding. 

"So," Bilbo said, looking around. "Clearly there's a Murphy bed or something, because I assure you, I'm too old to sleep on the couch."

Thorin laughed. "Better. The bed's amazing." He tugged Bilbo further into the room. There were two small couches facing a fireplace, a little desk with an array of outlets, what looked like a dining room table, complete with chairs, and a window seat with a view of the harbor. 

Bilbo shook his head, smiling. "This is not a hotel room, this is an apartment you've rented for the week, right?" He crossed his arms. "But there's still nothing like a bedroom."

Thorin smirked, then opened the door at which Dwalin had put Bilbo's bag. "In here," he said.

The bedroom was as large as Bilbo's living room. There was another little sitting area, a window, and the largest bed Bilbo had ever seen. He started laughing. "Well, at least I know that if you go off me in the night, I won't have to get out of bed. I'll just lie on the other side of it, over there, in the next county."

Thorin stepped closer, hands behind his back. "I'll not go off you, that I can promise." His voice was very low, and Bilbo felt something in his chest clench, making him catch his breath. Thorin was looking at him, his blue eyes somehow darker.

Bilbo reached for him and Thorin swept him into a hug. They stood together for several moments. Bilbo breathed in the way Thorin smelled: there was the tang of soap, a deeper smell - almost of metal, and something rich and earthy. Bilbo felt himself relax into Thorin, his eyes falling closed. Something uncoiled between his shoulders, a knot of tension he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying. He felt his shoulders sink down. 

"Hey _Uncle Thorin_ ," came a loud voice from the hall. "You can't keep him locked up in there - we want a chance to talk to him, too!"

Thorin snorted into Bilbo's hair. "Well, there went our chance for a nice quiet private dinner."

Bilbo laughed, but stepped back. "Come on," he said, reaching out to twine his fingers with Thorin's. "Let's go."

The ride to dinner turned out to be the hotel van. Fili had swept Bilbo up and was laughing about something his brother'd said to Thorin as they climbed into the van. Bilbo found himself stuck into the middle seat of the third row, while Thorin was shoved into the first row. Thorin shot him an exasperated look, but Bilbo just grinned and turned to greet the man who was already sitting. 

"Bifur, right?"

Bifur nodded, smiling broadly. "Good to see you again. I see you've escaped the kids."

Bilbo laughed. "The two worst don't belong to me at all, thank the gods, and Frodo and Sam are at Sam's house for the weekend. I dread to think how late they're staying up, but at least I know they're eating well."

The ride to the restaurant was short and filled with laughter. Bilbo couldn't keep up with much conversation, but he was amused at how often Thorin looked back at him. When they got to the restaurant, he wasn't surprised to find Thorin immediately at his side. 

The restaurant looked like a hole-in-the-wall sort of place; Bilbo was surprised to see that it was much larger on the inside. They were led to a small private room and as everyone was being seated, Bilbo saw Dori talking to one of the waiters. Dori caught his eye and Bilbo nearly choked. _Oh shit, he knows I'm Bandobras Took._ Dori shook his head slightly and smiled.

"Do you know Dori?" Kili had slid into the seat next to Bilbo - the one that Thorin wasn't sitting in - and was grinning at him. 

"No, but I know his younger brother. He's my graduate student." 

Dori sat down across the table from him. "He speaks very highly of you," he said. His voice was low and gentle. 

"He's great. He's going to go far, I think." Bilbo leaned forward. "I hadn't realized you two were related."

Dori smiled again and Bilbo knew that Dori knew that Bilbo hadn't learned that he and Ori were related from Ori. "I use a variation of our name on stage. It lets my brothers have more privacy."

"Bilbo," called Gloin, who was sitting next to Dori. He leaned to the side a bit as a waiter set a plate of appetizers in front of him. He glanced at the waiter and smiled, muttered thanks, and pulled three of the little fried packets onto his plate. "I wanted to thank you for making Gimli text me. He's so busy that he often forgets, but he always sends me texts when he's at your house."

Bilbo laughed. "He and Merry are never going to agree about ... what is it? Elves?"

The rest of the table started laughing as well. 

"Oh don't get him started," said Dwalin, "or we'll never talk about anything else." He dished out some peanut sauce onto the pile of chicken on his plate. Next to him, Bifur waited to scoop some of the sauce onto his own plate full of thinly sliced greens. 

Around Bilbo, the group's conversation became more general as they discussed the food and their plans for the next morning. Thorin was silent, eating calmly; every few minutes, Bilbo felt Thorin's hand touch his knee or just barely brush against his thigh. 

Once the initial chaos of serving and settling in was over, Fili leaned around Gloin and said, "So, organic chemistry, huh? Is that something to do with growing chemicals without pesticides?"

Bilbo snorted, then covered his mouth with his napkin. "Yes," he said. "Do you know what non-organic fruits are made of?" At the general questioning noises around the table, he smirked and said, "Plasma."

Next to him, Thorin shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "They wouldn't be able to stay on the shelves. Clearly they're made of ionic salts."

Bilbo blinked at him. "What was it your degree is in again?" On his other side, Kili chuckled. 

Gloin answered before Thorin could. "Oh, he's a mechanical engineer."

"With a double minor," Fili said. "Metallurgy and inorganic chemistry." He scooped some noodles into his mouth and chewed for a minute. Next to him, Dori and Bifur were discussing something that seemed to require them arranging their unused utensils in a curve around Bifur's plate.

"He insisted we get degrees before we joined the band," Kili said, brightly. "Fili's got a music degree and I'm education." He paused. "Well, math and education."

Bilbo glanced between the three of them. "How _did_ you start a band, anyway? I guess I assumed ..." He trailed off at Dwalin's laughter.

"Oh, it was in college, actually. He'd been doing something or another electrical and he started working with sound waves. That led to needing something to make the sound waves and, well, here we are." He gestured expansively with his chopsticks, making Bilbo worry that the food on them would go flying. "Didn't become a band immediately. First it was just him, fucking about with his guitar."

Thorin sighed. "Dwalin loves this story, but he never gets it right. He grew up playing the violin, so we used that at first, but he always had to go to practice just as I was getting the information I needed. So I picked up the guitar." 

Dwalin shouted a laugh. "It got him loads of girls, that guitar." He grinned at Thorin, who'd gone a little pink. Bilbo laughed. 

"I never did play any instruments," he said. "I grew up with paints all over the house, though, and plants in anything open-topped that wasn't holding paint water. Sometimes there'd be plants _in_ the paint water, if my dad was in a rush."

Bifur looked up. "Plants and paint?" 

Bilbo nodded, mouth too full to respond immediately. "My mom's a painter and dad's a botanist. Well, mycologist, but it's easier to explain botany."

When they'd cleared all the serving plates, Dori turned to the waiter and said something under his breath. The waiter nodded, grinning; after the table was cleared, he brought out several large plates with what looked like deep fried cheese. Everyone but Bilbo began scooping portions onto their own plates and Bilbo turned to Kili.

"What's this?" 

Kili glanced up from trying to grab an entire serving plate of the dish. He looked at Bilbo's empty plate and hastily scooped half the serving onto it. "Deep fried cheesecake. It's amazing."

Back at the hotel, they all rode up to the 15th floor together. Bilbo and Thorin were the only ones at their end of the hall, and Dwalin made sure to wink at Bilbo, which made him laugh.

Inside the room, Bilbo said, "I like your friends." He'd pulled his bag into the bedroom and was rummaging in it for his toiletries bag. He closed the bag and stood up to find Thorin leaning against the door frame, looking pensive.

"Is everything okay?" Bilbo asked, putting a hand on his arm. Thorin looked at him and smiled, full and beaming. 

"Yes," he said, "but I wanted to say that we don't have to do this. If you don't want to, I mean. I know it's ... we've only really seen each other twice. Well, three times, but - "

 _Ah. Good to know I'm not the only one who's nervous._ Bilbo stepped forward, letting his toiletries bag drop to the floor. He put one hand on each of Thorin's arms and leaned up, kissing him - at first gently, but then more deeply as he felt Thorin respond. Within seconds, they were wound tightly together; Thorin was pressing Bilbo against the wall and Bilbo arched forward, trying to get more contact. 

When they broke apart, Bilbo said, "Wait. Wait, let me brush my teeth and then I'm all yours."

The look of hungry passion on Thorin's face made Bilbo suddenly short of breath.


	17. Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up.

Bilbo finished in the bathroom, then leaned on the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. "You can do this," he told his reflection. "You're not too fat, Smeagol was an asshole." He wished it were as easy to believe as it was to say.

In the bedroom, Thorin had moved to stand near the fireplace. He turned when Bilbo entered the room; the firelight gilded his skin and made the silver streaks in his hair shine. He opened his arms and Bilbo walked into them, wrapping one around Thorin's chest and letting the other slide into his hair. 

Thorin brought his face down to Bilbo's; his eyes fluttered closed as their lips met. For a few minutes they stood, kissing, mouths open, warm and wet. Bilbo could feel Thorin's hands, warm and strong, pulling him closer. Soon, almost not soon enough, his hands began to slide down to Bilbo's hips. Bilbo's fingers wound into Thorin's hair, the thick strands of it sliding like silk between his fingers.

Thorin pulled Bilbo's shirt out of his pants and slipped his hands underneath, stroking paths up Bilbo's sides. Bilbo gasped at the first touch, then began tugging at Thorin's shirt, which wasn't tucked in at all. His skin underneath was hot and smooth. Thorin's mouth slid to Bilbo's ear and then down to his neck and Bilbo felt his legs go weak. 

Thorin scraped his teeth gently on Bilbo's neck and Bilbo pressed his head closer, tighter; he could hear someone making small tight sounds and realized it was himself. He tried to pull Thorin's shirt higher, but kept getting distracted by the feel of Thorin's mouth and hands and teeth. 

Finally Thorin pulled away, his mouth red and cheeks flushed. He stepped back and pulled his shirt over his head, letting his hair go everywhere. Bilbo stumbled back a bit, taken aback at the broad expanse of muscular chest exposed. _Oh god, he's beautiful._ He started unbuttoning his shirt, unable to keep his eyes from the way Thorin's muscles moved under his slightly tan skin as he dropped his shirt and began undoing his pants. 

Bilbo gave up on his shirt as a bad job and started on his own pants. He pulled them down and realized he'd forgotten to take his shoes off. He tried toeing them off, but nearly fell so he sat down on the couch behind him and pulled them off, then tugged his pants off after them. 

When he looked up, Thorin was naked in front of him. His cock stood out, firm and proud, a lovely shade of peach fading into dark pink at the tip. He wasn't circumsized and Bilbo felt his own cock throb at the sight. 

Thorin stepped forward, saying "Bilbo..." but before he could say anything else, Bilbo couldn't help himself. He leaned forward, grasping Thorin's hips tightly, and closed his mouth around the tip of Thorin's cock, closing his eyes as the taste filled his mouth.

Thorin stumbled slightly; his hands came to rest on Bilbo's shoulders. Bilbo barely noticed them; all he could concentrate on was the way Thorin's cock tasted and felt - soft, gentle skin over solid heat, with a flavor he couldn't quite place but knew he'd never get enough of. He slid back slowly, dragging his tongue along the length of Thorin's cock, then gently wiggled it inside the very tip of Thorin's foreskin.

Above him, Thorin let out a whine. "Bilbo," he gasped, but Bilbo didn't know what he was going to say next, as he wrapped one hand around the base of Thorin's cock and started pumping it up and down in time with his mouth held tightly around the foreskin, letting it slide up and down Thorin's shaft. He could feel the very tip of Thorin's cock brushing the back of his throat and knew he'd never be able to take it all in his mouth, the way he'd like to. 

Thorin's hips were shaking slightly and Bilbo could hear him making sounds, desperate, needy sounds. He slowed his movements, dragging his lips more tightly. He slipped his other hand around to Thorin's balls, which were drawn tightly up against his body. Gently, Bilbo cupped them and rolled them, then when Thorin's voice sounded deeper, Bilbo closed his fingers around the base of Thorin's balls, just below his body, pulling them down slightly.

He smiled around his mouthful of cock as Thorin groaned and bent over at the waist, his face near the small of Bilbo's back. "Bilbo please," he said. Bilbo could feel his whole body shaking; his own was shaking nearly just as much and his cock was painful between his legs. He let go of Thorin's balls and reached around to squeeze his ass; it was delightfully firm and muscular. 

Thorin's body stiffened, his cock growing even thicker, then he groaned so hard Bilbo could feel it vibrate through his back; his hips jerked and he came, thick and hot, into Bilbo's mouth. They rested like that for a few seconds, Thorin bent forward over Bilbo, Bilbo's cheek resting on Thorin's hip. Thorin was panting, great gasps of air.

He stood suddenly, pulling away from Bilbo. His eyes were dark in the dimness of the firelight and all Bilbo could see was his face, his expression shifting and moving. For one moment, Bilbo thought things had gone horribly wrong somehow, but then Thorin reached for him, pulling him up and against his chest, kissing him so deeply Bilbo felt light headed. 

"I want to..." Thorin said, dragging his mouth away from Bilbo's. "I need ... you are amazing, you make me ..." He started to press Bilbo back, but then shook his head. "No, no room." He kissed Bilbo again, then slid an arm under his shoulders and swung him up, carrying him to the bed. He bent forward, placing Bilbo carefully on the soft covers. 

_He is incredibly strong._

Thorin bent forward over Bilbo on the bed; he pulled Bilbo's shirt open and began pressing kisses to his neck and chest. His hands, so warm and large, swept down Bilbo's body ahead of his mouth. His fingers were just slightly rough, making Bilbo shiver slightly. He couldn't think clearly past the sparks of heat and pleasure. He couldn't stop moving, trying to get more of Thorin's touch, his mouth, his body; under his hands, Thorin's skin was warm and smooth.

Thorin moved down Bilbo's body, pressing his face into Bilbo's side, kissing and sucking on his nipples, then continuing down, nuzzling his face into Bilbo's belly. His beard brushed Bilbo's skin - it wasn't rough and scratchy but pleasant, like being stroked with something. The sensation of it sent shivers of pleasure through Bilbo. 

After several minutes spent mouthing Bilbo's waist and chest, Thorin bit gently at Bilbo's hip and paused. He sat back and Bilbo stared up at him, entranced. He was magnificent in the flickering light; it caught the curves of his muscles, illuminating his hair. The light flashed in the blue of his eyes, making them sparkle and glow. 

Thorin tugged at something and Bilbo realized he'd forgotten to take off his underwear. He laughed slightly and lifted his hips for Thorin. Then all thought and amusement left as Thorin bent forward and took his whole cock in his mouth. All he could feel was the heat and pressure of Thorin's lips, the way his fingers gently rubbed circles on Bilbo's hips as his tongue swirled around the head of his cock. He sucked just the head, then slowly slid further down the shaft. 

Bilbo whined; white lights were sparking behind his eyelids, he could feel everything, every inch of his skin, the way the blanket shifted under him, the heat of Thorin over him. He could feel his orgasm rising, tightening his stomach, coiling in his hips. He couldn't stop moving, even though Thorin was pressing him down, fingers curled around his upper thighs, the slight pinch from them making the pleasure more intense.

Thorin kept moving steadily, not quite fast enough for the pleasure to crest. Bilbo reached down and stroked his head, tangling his fingers in his hair. Thorin shifted and laced the fingers of one hand with Bilbo's, catching his hair between their palms. Bilbo's other hand wound further into Thorin's long hair, reaching to rest on his head. Thorin's hair wrapped around his wrist like satin ribbons.

Finally the slow pace caught up to him; he could feel himself rising, heat and need pooling in his chest and hips until the only thing he could see was the way Thorin had looked at him and all he could feel was Thorin's touch. Just as he tipped over the edge, he looked down to catch Thorin looking up at him, his expression filled with need.

He woke later, in what he assumed was the middle of the night. They'd moved under the blankets, and Thorin was curled around him, one arm wrapped tightly around his chest and a leg thrown over his. Their feet were tangled together. Bilbo smiled to himself and stroked one hand up and down along Thorin's arm. Thorin muttered something in his sleep and tightened his arm, nuzzling his nose deeper into Bilbo's hair.

"Let me up," Bilbo whispered, "I'll be right back." He carefully slid out from under Thorin and went to the bathroom to deal with the inevitable results of the glass of beer he'd had with dinner. He didn't bother to turn on any lights - he was going straight back to bed. _If Thorin were in my bed every night, I don't know if I'd ever be able to get out of it._

When he slipped back under the covers, Thorin jolted. He reached for Bilbo and dragged him in, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around him and burying his face in the crook of Bilbo's neck. "You weren't there. I thought I'd just dreamed..." 

Bilbo chuckled and wrapped his arms around as much of Thorin as he could reach. "Just a trip to the bathroom."

Thorin huffed into his neck, then bit gently. Bilbo gasped as his body reacted immediately, his cock almost instantly hard and aching. Thorin's mouth and teeth moved out to Bilbo's shoulder, then back along their path and up his neck, ending with a tug on his earlobe. Bilbo pressed his head closer to Thorin's mouth and moaned. "Good god, Thorin, don't stop." He felt Thorin smile against his ear. 

"Your wish is my command," Thorin whispered and bent to his task. 

After a while, they ended up with Thorin on his back and Bilbo above him; Bilbo was running his hands down Thorin's body, following with his mouth. Thorin's chest had curls of dark hair between his nipples, hair that arrowed down directly to his cock, which stood proud and erect. Bilbo smiled down at it, fond of it already. 

He spent some time on it, licking and sucking, sliding the foreskin up and down gently, listening to the sounds Thorin made. He was moaning and whimpering, thrashing under Bilbo's hands and mouth. Half-finished words and phrases spilled from his mouth, pleas for Bilbo to do more, for him to never stop ... Bilbo rose up and sat straddling Thorin, their hips cradled together. He leaned forward, resting his hands on Thorin's shoulders. 

He rocked his hips back and forth, feeling their cocks rub and stroke and pull. Thorin's hands came up and gripped Bilbo's hips, half pulling, half riding along at Bilbo's pace. Bilbo sped up, feeling the pressure and pleasure building up, the heat from Thorin's body rising to meet his, Thorin's hips rocking under him, his hands slowly sliding up Bilbo's sides, fingers dragging slightly.

Thorin's hands swept up and around to Bilbo's chest and Bilbo had a momentary flash of memory, of other hands which would pinch and twist his nipples nearly until they bled, but Thorin's thumbs just gently rubbed them, settling into a slow circle around them. The shift from the expected pain to warm slow pleasure made Bilbo whimper, but then he thought of what it would feel like to have Thorin pinch his nipples with his gentle hands; the jolt of imagination made him gasp in sudden bliss. 

He looked at Thorin as his orgasm swelled and filled him; Thorin's face was filled with wonder, then his eyes unfocused as he, too, was swept into completion.

***

They woke up the next morning, tangled in sheets and blankets. Bilbo woke first and lay watching Thorin in the dim light. Thorin sprawled across the corner of the bed, arm reaching out for Bilbo, legs thrust out from under the blankets. His face was relaxed in sleep and Bilbo caught himself wishing he could run a finger along Thorin's nose and along his cheek. 

Thorin moved, as if he could feel Bilbo's gaze on him. He smiled before he opened his eyes, then blinked several times. "Do you always wake up so early?" he asked.

Bilbo chuckled. "Usually, I've a teenage boy to feed, of a morning."

Thorin snorted. "Mmm, breakfast. What would you like?" He shifted closer to Bilbo and wrapped his arms around him, tucking Bilbo's head under his chin. "We could order something from the restaurant downstairs, or from room service?"

Bilbo tipped his head back. "Aren't they the same thing?"

Thorin rubbed his cheek in Bilbo's hair. "No, the hotel has their own kitchen. The restaurant's pretty good, though. Let's try them."

He rolled over Bilbo, smiling as he kissed Bilbo. "Mmmm, good morning. Shall we shower together or should I go first and order something for us to eat while you're in the shower?"

"The bed is lovely," Bilbo said, grinning.

Thorin fell off Bilbo and slid out of bed. "I'll get started. What do you like? Bacon? Ham? Pancakes?"

"Yes," Bilbo said, smirking when Thorin laughed. "Just pick anything - I'm sure it'll be good."

Half an hour later, Bilbo shrugged on the hotel robe and walked into the living room of the suite, still towelling his hair dry. He was greeted by a table filled with food, a pot of steaming coffee, and the laughing faces of Thorin's two nephews. Thorin himself was sitting at the smaller table to the side, his chin in one hand.

"Uncle Bilbo," Fili and Kili chorused. "Come and have some breakfast!"


	18. Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebrity life isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Breakfast turned out to be three different types of eggs benedict, ham, bacon, pancakes, waffles, a large dish of whipped cream with a pot of warm strawberries at its side, a little tureen of steel cut oatmeal, a covered dish with a large omelet, the large pot of coffee, three types of sugar, and a pot of heavy cream. 

Bilbo raised his eyebrows at Thorin, who shrugged. "You said you liked everything, so I got everything." At Bilbo's chuckle, he grinned. "And anyway, with those two here, we'll be lucky if we get any of it."

Kili and Fili had already filled plates and were eating quickly. "Come on," Kili said, smiling at Bilbo, "try the benedict. It's really good. And then when you're done eating, we can go to the aquarium."

"The, ah, what?" Bilbo paused, his plate hovering above a dish with an eggs benedict that seemed to have salmon and goat's cheese as well as thick slices of roasted tomato. He turned to Thorin. "Aquarium?"

Thorin looked up from his own plate, which he'd filled with nearly half the omelet. "It's something we've been doing here since Kili was little." He drained his coffee cup and stood to refill it, pouring one for Bilbo at the same time. "We always go when we're in Baltimore. They, ah," his smile twisted slightly. "They thought you might like to be part of the group this time."

Bilbo sat next to Thorin, tucking his napkin into his lap. "That sounds lovely. It's been years since I watched fish in a tank."

Fili laughed, eyes moving between Bilbo and Thorin. "Oh, there's a lot more to see than fish. The shark exhibit's great, and Kili loves the jellyfish." He pushed his empty plate away. "I think we've got a picture of him in front of the building every year from when he was about, oh, six." 

Kili grinned. "I swear they're getting to know me. The Lion's Mane ones come to see me when we come."

"Kili," Fili said, voice dry. "They're jellyfish. They don't have brains. They barely have neural nets."

Kili stuck his nose in the air. "Just because the turtles ignore you is no reason to deny my relationship with the jellyfish."

As the brothers continued to bicker happily, Thorin caught Bilbo's eyes and smiled. He ran a finger up Bilbo's arm and wrapped his hand gently around Bilbo's wrist. Bilbo pulled in a breath at how warm his hand was, and how good it felt to have Thorin touching him. A cough from across the table brought his attention back to the brothers.

Fili stood up, dragging Kili from the last of his meal. "We've got to go clean up. See you downstairs before the hour's up?" Kili scooped the last large spoonful of oatmeal mixed with strawberries and whipped cream into his mouth, waggled his eyebrows at his uncle, then trotted out of the room after Fili. 

Bilbo looked at the table. "You weren't kidding," he said. Most of all three benedicts was gone, there was only one waffle left, the tureen of oatmeal was half empty, the dish which had held the omelet only had scraps of mushroom and onion left in it, and the coffee pot was nearly empty. However, there was a bowl with a mound of whipped cream and strawberries left in a cleared space. Two spoons were set in front of the bowl.

Thorin laughed. "They've been that way all their lives. I swear I don't know where it goes." He caught sight of the whipped cream and berries and snorted. "And they're not subtle, are they?" He picked up the bowl and spoons and stood up. "Let's have our dessert somewhere less messy." 

Bilbo scraped up the last of the goat cheese from his plate and drained his coffee cup. "That sounds lovely."

They settled on one of the small couches in front of the fireplace. Thorin held the bowl and they ate the berries and cream in between discussing plans for the day. Bilbo kept getting distracted by Thorin's tongue as it swept his lips clear of cream. _I guess it's good that they've already made plans, or I'd keep him in the hotel all day long._

As they were leaving their room, Thorin pulled a thick hoodie over his head, tugging it down past his hips. "I don't think it's that cold out," Bilbo said, confused.

"Oh," Thorin replied, looking a bit stiff. "It's more to, well. It's so I don't get seen."

When they all met at the lobby doors, Bilbo was surprised to see that Fili and Kili were also wearing hats, dark glasses and hoodies with the hoods drawn up. "What happens if someone sees you?" Bilbo asked.

"Oh," Kili said brightly, "most of the time it's okay, but when we're on tour things sometimes get a little out of hand." 

Bilbo looked curiously up at Thorin, who only shrugged and wrapped his arm around Bilbo's shoulders. 

Once at the aquarium, which Bilbo was pleasantly surprised to find was only a short walk away, they started wandering through the exhibits. Kili arrowed directly to the jellyfish and stood close to the Lion's Mane tank; his silhouette striking against the vivid blue background with the orange jellies floating past. Bilbo and Thorin strolled through all of the exhibits, stopping to watch different fish and large tanks, idly talking about the varieties of fish and wildlife. 

As they sat on benches watching the sharks swim lazily by, they laughed at the antics of the small children who plastered themselves to the glass. This led Thorin to discuss Kili and Fili's childhood adventures. Bilbo responded with stories of Frodo's youth, and some of his own.

"Hey," said Fili, sitting down next to Bilbo. "Aren't you hungry yet? It's nearly one o'clock." He sat sideways on the bench, leaning his arm on Bilbo's shoulder. 

"Is it really?" Bilbo looked at his watch. _Where did the time go?_ He smiled at Thorin, who'd been trying to explain something about how the harp guitar worked. "Lunch?"

Thorin smiled. "I'm famished." He looked around, then back at Fili. "Your brother?"

"Waiting for us at the front doors. I had to peel him off the octopus tank, so I parked him in the gift shop." Thorin laughed and Fili grinned at Bilbo. "He's sure to have bought several strange plastic toys, at least two model jellyfish, and a tee shirt by the time we get back."

Bilbo laughed.

They ate lunch at a small cafe down a small side street near the aquarium. Bilbo was amused by the way Thorin and his nephews interacted; the two boys were clearly very close - to each other and to Thorin. He felt very pleased to be included in their banter. Thorin spent half the meal with his arm around Bilbo, smiling. After lunch, Kili and Fili said that they wanted to go do some shopping, so Bilbo and Thorin went back to the hotel together.

Thorin was less happy when they saw the crowd outside the hotel doors. He stopped, half a block away from the hotel, started cursing, then pulled Bilbo into the recessed doorway of a nearby shop.

"What is it?" Bilbo looked down the street, but all he saw was a bunch of people waiting for a taxi.

"They're there for me." Thorin stared down the street. He'd taken off his sunglasses and dropped his hood while they were in the aquarium and his eyes, usually so bright and sparkling, were now flat and cold. "See the cameras? They're reporters. Of a sort." He pointed at the people in the back of the crowd. "And they're not actually on the sidewalk in front of the hotel - they've probably been asked to move away. Dammit."

"So, if they're reporters, we could talk to them? Or could we just walk past them," Bilbo said. "I don't see what's making you so angry."

Thorin sighed, looking down at him. "It's just ... well, those are reporters for some of the sleazier gossip rags. They're not here to ask nice questions about when the shows are or what we're doing for the holidays." He ran a thumb along the line of Bilbo's chin. "They're here to dig up gossip."

"Ah." Bilbo shivered at the feeling of Thorin's hand on his cheek. "I see." He turned to look at the crowd again, less sure of himself. "Is there a back door?"

Thorin's mouth twisted. "Maybe, but it's too late for us to get there. They'll see us as soon as we move." He pulled out his phone and started typing. "I'll tell the boys, though, so they can come in another way." After a few moments, he dropped his phone back into his pocket.

"They won't want to talk to me, though, will they?"

At Bilbo's question, Thorin stiffened. "Yes, they will. They're vicious, though. Best not to talk to them at all." He ran a hand over his face. "Okay, how's this? I'll go out there and distract them for long enough for you to get inside. Once you're in the lobby, you'll be fine. I'll meet you upstairs in, oh, half an hour?"

Bilbo leaned back and looked into Thorin's face. _He looks angry._ "Sure, if you think it's necessary."

"I do." Thorin sounded grim. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply for a minute, then he looked into Bilbo's eyes. "If any of them follow you or talk to you, don't say _anything._ " He waited until Bilbo nodded, then strode out of the shop front.

Before he'd gone five steps, the crowd turned and surged forward. They were shouting at Thorin, and Bilbo flinched at the tone of some of the questions. He carefully sidled out of the shop front himself and walked past the group, trying to look as if he were completely uninvolved. 

He was nearly at the hotel doors when he heard someone pounding up behind him. He glanced back and saw one of the journalists from the crowd hurrying up. 

"Hey you," she called. "I saw you with him. Who're you? Are you a friend of Thorin's? How well do you know him? Have you known him long?" She stuck her phone into Bilbo's face, making him recoil hard enough to back into the glass doors of the hotel. 

"I don't ..." he said, taken aback. He hadn't expected to be noticed at all. "I'm sorry, but who?" 

"Thorin _Oakenshield_ , of course," she snapped. Her face twisted into a semblance of a smile. "You were walking with him before you two split up at that little jewelry shop. Were you looking at jewelry? Rings?" 

Bilbo smiled at her. "I have no idea what or who you're talking about, but if you want to get more information about that dark haired fellow all your friends seem to be interested in, you should go ask him." He pointed at the shrieking crowd. "I'm just trying to get back to my hotel." He slipped through the door and hurried towards the elevators in the back of the lobby. 

She followed him into the lobby, grasping at his sleeve. "Look, mister, I've got pictures of you two together so don't play coy with me." 

He laughed. "Really? People really say things like that?" He saw hotel security moving quickly towards them. "And, if we're going to use cliches, 'I think your goose is cooked.'" He stepped back sharply as the two security guards grabbed her arm. "Have a good afternoon." 

He made it to the elevators and pressed the Door Close button. After a second's thought, he pressed the button for the fourth floor and sighed, leaning back against the back wall. "Wow," he said to the mirrored walls. "That was a bit more than I expected." 

It was a bit more than half an hour later when Thorin burst into the room. "Bilbo," he called. "Are you okay? I saw that woman go after you..." 

Bilbo raised a hand from where he was lying on the couch. "I'm fine, Thorin, it's okay." He sat up. "I called down for snacks and tea, I thought we might like something soothing." 

Thorin nodded, coming closer. He pulled Bilbo onto his feet and wrapped his arms around him. "I'm so sorry," he said into Bilbo's hair. "I didn't think they'd see you." 

Bilbo shrugged. "I didn't expect anything like this, but ... " He trailed off, thinking about the tv talk show interview he'd seen and the way the kids at school had talked about Thorin. "Is this common?" 

Thorin sighed and sank down onto the couch. His hands slid down Bilbo's arms until he was holding Bilbo's hands. "Yeah, it is. It's hard sometimes. I don't have a lot of privacy." He let Bilbo's hands drop, clasping his hands together between his knees. "It's not really a life for someone who's used to being a regular person." 

Bilbo sat down next to him and ran a hand down Thorin's back. "Hey, it's not a big deal. So there are some nutty paparazzi some of the time. They can't be worse than college students just before finals." 

Thorin laughed, but it sounded hollow. "I guess." He leaned back. "I'd hoped you wouldn't have to deal with that." 

Bilbo smiled. "I'm tough. I'll be okay." 

There was a knock at the door and Thorin stalked stiffly to look through the security peep hole in the door. His shoulders relaxed and he pulled the door open to let Bifur in. He was pushing a rolling cart with a tea set and a plate with a variety of pastries on it. 

"Bifur!" called Bilbo. "Want a muffin?" 

Bifur glanced at Thorin's still-tense face and smiled. He muttered something to Thorin that Bilbo couldn't hear, then nodded at Bilbo. "Thanks," he said. "I don't mind if I do." After choosing one of the blueberry muffins, he smiled at both of them and left, shutting the door carefully behind himself. 

"Well," Bilbo said, rubbing his hands together. "I think a cup of tea and maybe some of those delightful looking shortbread cookies would hit the spot." He matched action to words and poured cups of tea for both of them and piled a small plate with cookies. "I've got some reading to do and the concert doesn't start for a few hours, right?" At Thorin's bemused nod, Bilbo smiled. "So, if you've a book, we can sit on the couch and read together." 

Thorin snorted. "I've got several books - I'm still reading the adventures of that short space captain. Does he ever quit falling into trouble?" 

Bilbo laughed. "No. Not even after he gets ..." He squinted at Thorin, who grinned unrepentantly. "You just want me to tell you what happens in advance!" 

Thorin laughed. "Maybe. Maybe I just like to hear you talk about books." 

They settled back onto the couch, with Bilbo sitting so that his back was against the arm of the couch and his feet were tucked under Thorin's thighs. He pulled out a pile of quizzes and sighed as he started marking them. Half an hour later, he glanced up to find Thorin watching him, a small smile on his face. 

He smiled back, feeling warm and content in a way he hadn't since leaving home in Bag End. 


	19. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calm before the storm.

Nineteen 

Bilbo looked up an hour later at a knock at the door. He glanced at Thorin, who'd slid sideways and was fast asleep against the arm of the couch. Slowly, Bilbo pulled his feet out from under Thorin and tiptoed to the door, pulling it open slightly. Dwalin stuck his head in.

"Hey," he said, then recoiled as Bilbo shushed him quickly. "What?" he whispered.

"He's asleep," Bilbo said in a low voice. "The show's not for at least another hour - what do you need?"

Dwalin stared at him then looked over his shoulder at the mop of long black hair pouring over the arm of the couch. "He's _asleep?_ " he whispered.

Bilbo nodded, stepping out into the hall, but keeping the door slightly open behind himself. "Is something the matter?"

Dwalin was still staring at the door. "I don't ... you tell me." Suddenly he leered genially. "What'ja do to tire him out?"

Bilbo crossed his arms and put on his very best Unamused Professor face. "Is there something you wanted other than to pester us?"

Dwalin snorted. "Nah, I just wanted to talk to Thorin about where he wants to put you for the show, but there's a couple of hidden boxes at the side which'll do. Don't let him sleep past six, okay? He'll take a while to get ready and we need to get to the Opera House at least half an hour before the show starts." He grinned and leaned against the wall. "He's usually having kittens right about now - whatever you did, bottle it, okay?"

Bilbo shook his head and sighed. "We were just reading. Well, I was doing work." He pushed the door open and looked through at Thorin. "I'll wake him at six. What will he need to do to get ready? Will I need to do anything in particular?"

Dwalin shook his head, still smiling. "Just be ready to listen to them for a couple of hours. The box is pretty comfortable, and I can make sure to get snacks and water put in, if you like."

Bilbo nodded. Thorin was moving a bit. "That sounds nice. I'll see you later." Bilbo stepped through the door and shut it carefully behind himself.

"Bilbo?" Thorin's voice was rough with sleep. The waterfall of hair shifted, then he sat up quickly, looking around. He relaxed when he saw Bilbo standing at the door. "Bilbo, are you okay?"

Bilbo smiled. _He looks so soft._ "Dwalin came by to check on us. He seemed surprised that you were sleeping." He rummaged around on the tea cart and sighed. "The tea's gone cold. Maybe ..." He glanced around the room, but couldn't see what he was looking for. "Thorin, tell me the room has a microwave."

Thorin pointed wordlessly to a corner of the room Bilbo hadn't looked into yet. It looked like a narrow closet with folding doors, but when Bilbo pulled them open, there was a fully stocked bar, baskets with packets of coffee and tea and sweeteners and, to Bilbo's pleasure, a little microwave. He popped his teacup in and pressed the buttons.

"There," he said, turning around and rubbing his hands together. "Did you have a nice nap?" The microwave dinged and he pulled his tea out then wandered back to the couch and set it down on the table. "Now, how about a kiss to wake up?" He knelt on the couch next to Thorin and leaned in, pressing his lips to Thorin; first to his forehead, then to his mouth. 

Thorin's arms came up and held him close and Bilbo shivered a bit at how warm Thorin was and how good it felt to be hugged by him. After a few sweet minutes, he pulled back a bit.

"Dwalin said you're usually tense before a show?"

Thorin dropped his head to Bilbo's shoulder and huffed a laugh. "A bit, but it's not stage fright."

Bilbo nodded, idly running his fingers through Thorin's hair. It wasn't coarse, not quite, but it wasn't soft and silky either. He rubbed one of the locks between his fingers, then wound it around his hand. "I remember. You emailed me something about it. Are you feeling okay or do you need to warm up?"

Thorin idly kissed Bilbo's neck, and Bilbo felt a spark run down his spine. "I'm plenty warm," Thorin whispered into Bilbo's ear and pushed him backward along the couch. "You seem to be cold, though, you're shivering."

They spent several minutes entwined on the couch, but finally Bilbo pushed at Thorin's shoulders. "While this is ..." he kissed Thorin's nose, "lovely, it's nearly six and Dwalin was insistent that I wake you up then. So, ah, ... stop that, I'm trying to be helpful here - "

Thorin slumped on top of him and Bilbo felt himself flatten out. "Oh fine, be that way." Thorin's voice sounded grumpy, but Bilbo could feel Thorin's smile against his shoulder. 

He chuckled, then pushed Thorin's chest again. "Get up, you great lump. You're crushing me."

Thorin rolled over, rolling off the couch and landing on the floor. Bilbo stared at him, shocked, but he just grinned back. Then he heaved himself to his feet and started for the bedroom. "I'll go change. If Dwalin comes back, tell him I'll be ready on time." He kept talking as he went into the other room, but Bilbo couldn't hear much beyond a muffled rumble.

Bilbo spent the time Thorin was changing tidying up the room, putting away his quizzes and tucking his laptop back in its bag. Thorin stalked back into the room wearing the tight leather pants Bilbo remembered from the first photograph of him he'd seen. 

Bilbo watched as Thorin ran his fingers through his hair, adjusted his pants, and tightened up the belt with the big Oaken Shield. As he watched, he realized that Thorin was watching him, his eyes darkening slightly. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the pants and let his fingers dangle around the buckle. 

Bilbo felt his chest tighten as Thorin's fingertips stroked the centerline of the buckle, then ran slowly up his naked stomach and chest, finally coming to a rest on his collarbones. His expression was needy and Bilbo's breath caught. Thorin took two steps toward him when a heavy knock sounded on the door.

"WHAT?" Thorin bellowed.

Dwalin's voice came through the door. "Time to go, lovebirds. We've got a show to do!" Bilbo snorted at the amusement he could hear. 

"I want..." Thorin started, but Bilbo stood up. 

"Now, this will be a treat," he said, gathering up his phone. "Will I need a jacket, do you think?"

In the car on the short drive to the Lyric Opera House, Bilbo found himself in the back seat again, between Bifur and Dori. In the front, he could see Thorin arguing with Dwalin about something, but he couldn't hear what they were saying. 

"My brother speaks very highly of you," Dori said suddenly on Bilbo's right.

Bilbo jumped and glanced over. "Ah, yes," he said, catching the edge of amusement in Dori's expression. "He, erm, _they_ didn't mention you until after I went to the concert this summer."

Dori sighed, shaking his head. "I'm the black sheep of the family, I'm afraid. I was supposed to go into finance, but art was my true love. I wasn't sure my mother would ever forgive me, but..." he shrugged. "In the end, she could see that I was happy - and that I wasn't going to change my mind." His voice was sardonic, but then he brightened. "They both talk about you - Ori quite a bit. He's very pleased that you took him on as a graduate student. He wasn't sure he'd get chosen."

Bilbo smiled. "I had to fight off three other professors to get him. He's quite special. He's going to do a lot of good things."

Dori beamed.

***

Thorin hadn't wanted Bilbo go to the box seat without him, but Dwalin had forced Thorin to go backstage and brought Bilbo to the box himself. 

"Here ya go," he said, opening an anonymous door in a hallway past a door labeled No Admittance. The box seat was a small, opulent room at the side of the theater above the rest of the audience. Across the theater, Bilbo could see where other box seats would show if their doors, great golden things nearly half the height of the room, were open. They opened so that whoever was in the box was hidden from everyone in the theater except those on stage and those in the box opposite. The one directly across from his was open, but it just housed lights for the show.

"Wow," Bilbo said, leaning forward to look at the milling crowd below. Dwalin chuckled, and leaned out as well.

"Good crowd," he said. "I've always liked this theater." There was a knock at the door and Dwalin checked the peep hole before opening it. A young man brought in a basket with a selection of snacks and small bottles of drinks. He arranged them on a table Bilbo hadn't noticed, nodded at Bilbo and Dwalin, then left, shutting the door noiselessly.

Bilbo looked the food over, then laughed. "Champagne? For a rock concert?"

Dwalin shrugged, smiling. "It's the Lyric _Opera House_ ," he said. "I'm surprised you're only getting the standard box seat selection - Fili bet me that Thorin would insist on something special."

Bilbo sank into one of the seats and looked up at Dwalin. "I don't need any of this. I mean, it's nice enough, but a bit over the top, don't you think?"

Dwalin was silent, his muscular arms crossed. "I'm not sure I follow."

"I'm not here because there's fancy things. I mean, it's great - and I'd love to eat anything Thorin's friend Bombur makes -" Dwalin snorted and Bilbo smiled. "But Thorin seems to think this is necessary." He waved a hand at the food and the box seat itself. 

"Ach, let the lad show off," Dwalin said, then thumped Bilbo on the shoulder and walked to the door. "I've got to get - stuff to do and all that. See you after?" The door closed behind him and Bilbo rubbed his face.

"Show off? How the ... what do I offer him in return?" 

Bilbo sighed, idly opened a little waxboard box of cookies and ate three. "Huh, not bad." 

Across the theater, Bilbo saw movement in the box with the lights; Dwalin waved to him and Bilbo waved back, grinning.

The concert started on time - an MC came out and made some announcements about things which the fans seemed to find exciting but which left Bilbo confused, and then the whole theater was plunged into darkness.

Then just a few notes rung out, and the crowd gasped. A few people cheered in the back, but there was a chorus of silencing hisses from the rest of the audience. A single light came on in the center of the stage; Thorin stood over his harp guitar, head bent. His long black hair fell over his shoulder toward the stage floor, but Bilbo could just see his face; his eyes were closed and his lips pressed together. After a minute, the music deepened and his fingers started moving between the three sets of strings. It sounded as if there were three instruments winding together like ghosts of each other.

Bilbo leaned forward. Thorin tossed his head back, sending his hair flying, and the rest of the lights came on - with a thundering chord, the rest of the instruments started. Kili, behind Thorin, grinned widely as he played his viola, the notes floating above the deep sounds of Gloin's bass guitar and flashing between the hard, tight notes from Fili's twin necked guitar. 

Then Thorin started singing and Bilbo nearly couldn't breathe. The song was of a lost home, a lost empire, and the desperation of a people struggling to reclaim it against all odds. Bilbo stared down at the stage, watching Thorin; with a shock, he realized that Thorin was watching him, deep blue eyes locked to his, expression filled with longing and desire.

The song came to an end on a deep vibrating note and the audience sat silent for a second before screaming with pleasure. Thorin pulled his gaze from Bilbo's and nodded to the fans, then Bifur's drumsticks counted out the beat for the next song and they were off again.

Two hours later, Bilbo sat back in his chair, feeling as exhausted as if he'd played every note himself. The bouncier songs he'd heard on the album he'd bought had been interspersed every so often with darker ones, more instrumental and complex. The audience, while clearly happy to sing along with the newer, poppier songs, was always still as stone during the darker music, not a rustle to be heard, as if they were under a spell.

Behind him, the door opened and Fili stepped through. "He's on his way," he said, "but I wanted to catch you first." He sat down facing Bilbo, looked into his face and then smiled. "I won't ask if you liked it - that's clear on your face. I wanted to ask you to please be careful."

"What?"

"Be _careful_. He's more vulnerable than you think." Fili's expression was determined.

Before Bilbo had a chance to say anything - most especially that he had no idea what Fili was talking about - the door opened again and Thorin slipped in. He shut the door and turned, then jumped, clearly not having expected to see anyone besides Bilbo.

Fili grinned at him and stood up. "I'll go lead them astray," he said. "You'll be able to get out the side in about ten minutes. Dwalin's got a car waiting." He clapped Thorin on the shoulder, smiled at Bilbo, and left.

Thorin moved to kneel in front of Bilbo. He was sweaty and his chest was still heaving as if he'd run a marathon. He smelled delicious, sharp and musky, and Bilbo found himself suddenly thrumming with arousal. Thorin swayed toward him; he seemed slightly disoriented. "Let's go back to the hotel," he whispered, stroking Bilbo's cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the instrument Thorin's playing - isn't it lovely?
> 
>  
> 
> [Seraph Guitar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cqeyvKQKEq0)


	20. Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the hotel, further explorations happen, but what kind of hotel is this, exactly?

The ride back to the hotel was unexpectedly quiet. They sat in the car Dwalin had arranged; Thorin held Bilbo's hand tightly, but he didn't look at Bilbo, which confused him. He'd been clingy in the elevator down to the side exit, and he'd let go while they hurried from the side door to the car. Bilbo had expected Thorin to return to being clingy, but he just sat, holding Bilbo's hand and looking away from him out the window. 

They pulled up outside a small side entrance of the hotel. The driver said, "Looks clear," and Thorin turned to Bilbo. His face was tense. 

"Okay, just go straight from the car to the door, don't look anywhere else, don't go anywhere else, just go straight through the door and into the elevator." He stared at Bilbo, then nodded as if Bilbo had responded. "Okay," he said. "Let's go." He took a breath, adjusted his fingers to lace through Bilbo's, then opened the car door and stepped out in one sweeping motion. 

Bilbo let himself be tugged through the door, but stumbled slightly on the way out. He tried to turn to close the door behind himself and was startled by a bright light. Thorin tugged on his hand and Bilbo trotted behind him. They made it through the hotel door and into the elevator; Thorin pushed Bilbo in front of himself and kept his back to the closing door. 

"I told you not to look anywhere but straight ahead," he said sharply and Bilbo stepped back. 

"What is going on, Thorin?" All the excitement and arousal from earlier in the evening had disappeared and now Thorin just seemed angry. 

"They'll have been waiting for us. Fucking vultures." Thorin snarled while reaching to stroke Bilbo's cheek. Bilbo pulled back abruptly and Thorin's face collapsed. "What?"

"Thorin," Bilbo said slowly, feeling as if he were missing something. "Why are you so upset? We're back at the hotel, and I thought ... well, it doesn't matter what I thought. Clearly I was mistaken."

Thorin looked at him and his harsh expression dissolved into confusion. "What... I mean, you didn't want to talk to them, did you? You can't make them be anything other than destructive, you know."

"Talk to who?" Bilbo paused. "Whom. I could have talked to the driver, I guess, but he was driving and, well, he didn't seem interested in conversation. Who are you talking about?"

"The assholes with cameras out there, just past the hotel property line. Why did you think we didn't go in the front entrance?" Thorin seemed honestly confused and Bilbo felt his shoulders relax.

"I, uh, didn't see them. I had no idea what to expect at all." 

"Ah." Thorin ran a hand through his hair. "We can worry about it later. They might not have gotten anything useful. There's no point in worrying about it now. I can think of better things to worry about." 

A smile returned to Thorin's face and Bilbo's cheeks heated. The doors opened behind Thorin and he stepped backwards into the corridor pulling Bilbo with him. 

In the hotel room, the staff had left several lights dimly lit. There was a bottle in an ice bucket that had barely had time to grow condensation; two tall flutes stood next to the bucket. A basket with chocolates sat nearby, and just beyond that was another iced bucket piled high with fresh strawberries. Bilbo turned to smile at Thorin at the extravagance, but the look on Thorin's face made every thought melt away.

He backed up slowly as Thorin approached, feeling the evening's earlier arousal come roaring back, sharper, maybe, for the momentary confusion and dismay. Thorin's eyes were dark and passionate; he licked his lips and for a moment all Bilbo could think of was the way those lips had felt on his, on his neck, on his chest, on his cock.

He whimpered slightly and Thorin stopped moving, eyes snapping up to meet his. Whatever he saw there seemed to please him, because he smiled, white and predatory against his dark beard. He pulled Bilbo against him; Bilbo's breath fled as Thorin's mouth descended upon his, hot and heavy and oh so soft. Thorin's fingers tangled in Bilbo's hair and they spent uncountable minutes lost in kissing, mouths moving slowly and delicately, breath warm against each other. 

Thorin's head dropped to Bilbo's shoulder and Bilbo noticed Thorin was shaking. "Are you cold?" He rubbed his hands up and down what he could reach of Thorin's arms. Thorin mouthed gently at Bilbo's neck and he shivered.

"I'm not cold," Thorin mumbled into Bilbo's skin. "I want you." Bilbo shuddered and wrapped his arms around Thorin as he began to walk them toward the bedroom. 

Once in the bedroom, also lit by dimmed lights and reflections from the city outside, Thorin began plucking at Bilbo's shirt. "Damned buttons," he muttered and Bilbo laughed.

"Why don't you take off that ridiculous belt buckle and I'll deal with my evil buttons?" Thorin kissed him one more time before tugging at his belt.

Bilbo moved away and started stripping off his clothes. He wanted to get to his luggage. He'd brought a box of condoms - the first he'd bought in more than three years - and he wanted to make sure to get them out, just in case. He dropped his clothes on the floor near his luggage - which the staff had put on a little shelf thing - and rummaged about, finally finding the box (along with a bag of nitrile gloves he'd thrown in at the last minute, feeling particularly optimistic) partially crushed under his extra set of shoes. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the bed.

Thorin had undressed entirely. He'd pulled the covers down so they tumbled over the foot of the bed; he was spread out on the crisp white sheets. His skin glowed golden in the low light and his hair lay fanned out over the pillows. His cock stood proud; it shifted slightly with every breath Thorin took. He was watching Bilbo closely and Bilbo fought the urge to try to cover his body.

 _He's so beautiful like this._

Bilbo dropped the condoms and gloves on the bed beyond Thorin and crawled up to kneel next to Thorin's hips, leaning down to kiss him again. He was beginning to think that he'd never be able to get enough of his kisses - they were heady things. Finally, he broke away - Thorin chased him up a few inches, then fell back. 

"Lie back," Bilbo whispered, surer of himself now. He nibbled his way along Thorin's jaw, enjoying the way his beard was crinkly in his mouth and the way it contrasted with the soft smooth skin of his neck. As he bit just below Thorin's ear, Thorin whined, a high, tight sound; his hands, which had been stroking Bilbo's side and hip, clenched in the flesh there. Bilbo smiled and worried that spot, then moved on.

As he explored Thorin's body, tasting the residual sweat on his chest and experimenting with the way Thorin sounded when Bilbo sucked on one nipple while rubbing the other between his fingers, Bilbo began to lose focus on anything outside the bed. Thorin's body became the whole world, his dimensions the entirety of the universe. 

He traced his way down Thorin's arms, laughing slightly as they tried to touch him, to wrap around whatever part of him they could reach, then wandered back to Thorin's chest. He followed the arrow of hair down across Thorin's taut stomach, marvelling at the way it shivered and twitched as he licked and tasted it. The sound Thorin made when Bilbo gently bit his hip made him have to pause to contain his own need.

Thorin was generous in his responses; he was very vocal. Bilbo laughed to himself when he thought about that - Thorin was a musician, it stood to reason he'd make noise in bed. He wasn't still, either; he responded to every one of Bilbo's touches, rising to meet his fingers, reaching to touch him, stroking with his hands when Bilbo was still, clutching at him when Bilbo shifted position. 

Finally, Bilbo settled between Thorin's legs. He looked up the length of Thorin's body and caught Thorin's gaze. He was staring down at him, pupils blown wide, mouth cherry red from where his teeth had been pressed. He looked dazed and needy. 

"Bilbo, I..." he started, but his head fell back with a long groan as Bilbo swiped his tongue up the length of his cock. Bilbo kept his mouth moving slowly as he reached for the gloves. He struggled with the ziplock bag for a moment, then pulled the gloves on.

He slid one hand down under Thorin's balls, then froze as he realized he'd forgotten lube. _How the fuck did I .. oh god, Bilbo, you brainless twit._ Thorin's hips twitched and he said, voice rough, "Why'd you stop?"

Bilbo coughed. "Lube. I can't ... I forgot lube."

He lifted away from his hunched position above Thorin's hips. Thorin's head was tossing from side to side, his mouth working. "Thorin?"

"Lube, lube. Right, dammit. There's a basket - I can't ... " he tried to wave a hand, but couldn't seem to lift it far off the bed. Bilbo followed the general direction he was pointing and saw a basket shaped shadow on a low table.

"The hotel provides lube?" _I have clearly been staying in the wrong hotels._ He slipped from the bed and padded to the basket. It was wrapped in the crinkly sort of plastic that cheap grocery store easter baskets were sold in. He tore off the extravagant curly-ribbon bow and dropped it, pulling open the wrapping. There was an assortment of boxes in the basket, a couple of tubes of stuff, and a ... Bilbo snatched his hand back from what he'd just grabbed. 

"The hotel provides _dildos_?"

On the bed, Thorin snorted. "No, but Kili said he thought we might want something to play with."

Bilbo choked. "Your nephew..." He turned back to the basket, keeping his eyes averted from the dildo, and reached for the tubes. _This one looks good. Nice and silicone-based._ Shaking his head, he trotted back to bed. 

"Now, before I was interrupted," he said, kissing Thorin on the lips. Thorin wound his arms around Bilbo, holding him close and kissing him breathless. After some time, Bilbo moved back to his position between Thorin's legs. This time, Thorin was propped up on his elbows as Bilbo lowered his mouth onto his cock. As Bilbo's fingers, slick with lube, slid down and then one slowly wiggled into him, he gasped in on a high whine and fell back onto the pillow. 

Bilbo spent the next half hour slowly stretching Thorin's ass, working first one finger, then two and then more until Thorin was pleading for more. When he'd made it to four fingers, he held them in place and fished about for the condom box. _It's been too long, if I can't remember to get this stuff ready beforehand._ After a horrible moment when he thought he was going to fall off the bed, he got everything situated. 

Bilbo listened to the way Thorin's whimpers had turned into pleas and cries. He'd started begging when Bilbo had moved to three fingers and had only sounded more desperate as Bilbo grasped his hips to slowly press his cock into Thorin. Thorin's words stopped on a long gasped inhale and his hips shuddered. 

Bilbo stopped halfway in, gritting his teeth and thinking intensely of nothing at all. _Oh god, I won't last at all. He's so goddamned tight._ After a long moment, he pressed forward. When he was fully seated, hips nested tightly into Thorin's, he bent forward and kissed his stomach gently. It was shivering, and Thorin's cock had gone down slightly, so Bilbo took it in one hand and stroked gently up and down.

Above him, Thorin keened, all words lost to need. His cock stiffened so quickly Bilbo was a little worried that Thorin might be lightheaded. 

His own pleasure was building and he couldn't stay still anymore; with the last of his coherence, he poured more lube into one hand and wrapped it around his cock as he slid partially out, and then he couldn't stop his hips from rocking. 

He shifted positions slightly, trying to hold back his own pleasure until he could find the right spot for Thorin. He pulled Thorin's thighs up so he was bent more, curved like a bow, like the shape of the harp on his guitar, and the image of Thorin on stage, the way the lights had flashed off his sweaty shoulders and the way he'd looked so lost in his music nearly made him explode, but the cry from Thorin brought him back to himself.

Thorin was shifting back and forth, his head tossing and his hands alternately grasping at the sheets and at Bilbo's shoulders. He was pleading, begging for more, for deeper, for harder and Bilbo could barely control himself. In his hand, Thorin's cock suddenly swelled; his back arched and he wailed his release.

The feeling of him coming in his hands, the way he sounded and looked drove Bilbo past his own edge and he bent forward, his cock buried as far as it could go. 

After a few empty moments, he carefully released Thorin's cock and pulled out as gently as he could, making sure the condom didn't slide off or spill everywhere. Thorin's legs fell to the side and Bilbo collapsed on top of him, panting heavily. Thorin's arms came up around him almost immediately; Thorin's fingers tangled into Bilbo's hair. 

A little while later, Bilbo sat up. "I'll get us cleaned up," he said, clearing his throat. Thorin blinked at him then coughed. 

"I can help," he said, but Bilbo shook his head. "It's okay. I'm up already." A few minutes later, Bilbo had wiped them both down with a warm damp hand towel. As he crawled back into the bed, he laughed. 

"I see why the bed's so big," he said as they curled together. "It's so we can leave the wet spot on the other side."

Then he wrapped his arms around Thorin's chest and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While there are hotels which provide this sort of thing, the Hotel Monaco in Baltimore isn't one of them. (They DO provide a loaner goldfish, if you really need a pet whilst you stay there.)


	21. Twenty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning from a trip is always difficult.

They spent most of the next day in the hotel room, spending the time getting to know each other in person. There'd been several discussions about current politics and each had led to different interesting subjects. A couple of the other band members had checked in; Dwalin stopped in for a few minutes to arrange to drive Bilbo back to the airport, then Fili and Kili came by with a large lunch.

Over lunch, Kili asked if they'd liked his gift basket. Fili groaned, covering his eyes with a hand.

Bilbo sat back, smiling. "Oh, that was from you? I thought the hotel provided it." He took a slow sip of coffee, letting the silence grow. Finally he said, "The condoms with little ducks on were particularly enchanting."

Thorin snorted, and Bilbo laughed. Kili grinned at Thorin, then elbowed Fili. "See," he whispered loudly enough to be heard across the room, "I told you they'd like it."

Later the next afternoon, Bilbo looked up from packing his suitcase. Thorin slumped in one of the chairs across from the bed. Bilbo chuckled at his expression. 

"You'll be back in the Bay Area soon and we can spend more time together. The tour's over just before Thanksgiving, right?" 

Thorin sighed and stood up, walking to stand next to Bilbo, wrapping his arms around Bilbo's shoulders. "Yeah." He dragged a hand through his hair. He hadn't combed it that morning, just run his fingers through it and tied it back in a rough tail. Bilbo hoped he'd be able to remember the way it clung to things, wrapping itself around fingers and getting stuck down shirts. 

Bilbo turned and hugged him back. "I liked spending time with you - it's so much nicer to actually talk rather than email. Frodo and his friends talk on Skype. Would you like to try that?"

Thorin smiled down at him. "Yeah, Fili's been on me to get it. Sure."

Someone pounded on the door and Thorin dropped his head to Bilbo's. "That's Dwalin."

Bilbo pulled him down for a long last kiss, then went to the door. "All right," he said. "I get it, time to go."

Dwalin grinned down at him. "Yup." He nodded at Thorin, standing in the bedroom doorway. "You all finished with him?"

Bilbo turned in time to see Thorin's glare and started laughing. "Doesn't matter what he's done with, I've got to go. I've class tomorrow and I'll be exhausted as it is. I land at one in the morning. I honestly don't know if I should go to bed or just stay up all night."

Dwalin dragged Bilbo's luggage out into the corridor, leaving Bilbo and Thorin alone for one last hug. Then Thorin walked with them to the elevator and stood waving as the doors closed. On the way down, Bilbo turned to Dwalin. "Wow, is he always like this?"

Dwalin shot him a hard look and shook his head. "Like what?"

Bilbo shrugged. "Hopelessly romantic?"

Dwalin started laughing. "Oh, nah. That he's doing special, just for you."

"I'm so honored."

Dwalin sobered and looked at him, head tilted. He was silent until they'd started moving through traffic in his beat up Jeep. "You know, he's had a hard time. I know it looks like it's all fun and games, but he's sort of trapped."

"What?" Bilbo turned from watching the evening traffic flow past them. 

"Thorin," Dwalin said. "He's not ..." He heaved a sigh and spent a few seconds maneuvering through traffic. "Just, be careful with him, okay? I know that he's a big boy and all that jazz, but he's had some really shitty treatment and I'd hate to see Thorin get hurt again."

Bilbo felt his eyebrows rise. "And you're telling me this because...?"

Dwalin sighed again. "Because I think the two of you could do well together."

"Ah." Bilbo paused. "I'm not interested in him because he's got money, or whatever the other people have wanted. At first I wasn't really interested at all - I mean, he's good-looking and all -" Bilbo laughed at Dwalin's horrified glance, then continued. "But honestly, I'm more interested in the fact that he likes _Firefly_ and _A E Van Vogt_. That's much harder to find than a pretty face."

Dwalin grunted and reached forward to turn the radio on. Berlioz flooded the car. When they arrived at the airport, Dwalin helped Bilbo pull his luggage from the car.

"Well," Bilbo said, "Thanks for the ride." _And the conversation._

Dwalin slapped him on the shoulder. "No problem. See you at Thorin's sister's for Thanksgiving?"

 _Thorin has a sister? Of course, Kili and Fili's mother must be his sister._

"Ah, no, thanks. I'll be at home with my parents, enjoying my mother's pies." Bilbo returned Dwalin's smile and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Anyway, tell everyone I enjoyed meeting them all."

After Bilbo made it through security, he settled down with a cup of coffee and his phone. 

_From: Bilbo  
To: Thorin_

_I made it to the airport. It's pretty empty so I'm all alone with my coffee._

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_Have a good flight. Text when you land?_

* * *

The next morning, Bilbo yawned his way through his early morning class. The students seemed more excited than usual, and at the end of class, when he asked for questions, the room fell silent. He raised his eyebrows.

"Yes?"

Finally, one of the girls in back said, "So, was that really you with Thorin Oakenshield?"

Bilbo blinked. "What? How..."

The class erupted into chatter. Three of the kids in the front row pulled out their phones - one showed a picture of him peeking out from behind the jewelry store frontage and the other two had clear pictures of him being pulled out of the limousine after the show. Bilbo gaped at them, then looked up at the class. About half the class was gathered around him, but the rest had already scattered.

He rubbed his face. Thorin's statements about how the people with cameras would have been waiting for them came back to him. _Oh hell. He meant paparazzi._

"Yeah," he said, shaking his head at the increased noise. "That's me."

"Ohmygod," someone said. "I've got to tell -"

Bilbo stood up. "NO!" he shouted. The classroom went quiet. "Look guys, I know you think this is all mondo exciting or whatever word you use now, but it's none of your business. It's not something you _need_ to tell anyone."

"But," Fatima said, standing near the projector screen, "it's been on TMZ and even the radio stations. It's not like it's a secret."

Bilbo sank back onto the chair behind the desk at the front of the room. "Right." He stared at her, and at the other students, who now looked worried. "Okay, right, yeah. Only, this is my life. My _personal_ life, which _isn't public_. Well, and his personal life, you know. Just because he's a popular singer doesn't mean you're entitled to know everything he does in private."

There were giggles in the back and he glared in their general direction. "Think about it - you're bright enough. Would you want everyone in the world dissecting who you go out with or what you buy for breakfast?"

"Yeah, but -" someone said, then broke off at Bilbo's flat look. 

Bilbo stood back up. "Thanks for the information, guys. Now I'm going to my next class." He turned and started gathering up his supplies. He could hear the students chattering as they left the room and he found himself moving slowly, pretending that he was having a hard time getting his computer into his bag. When he turned back around, the only person left in the room was Fatima.

"Yes?" he sighed. 

She smiled at him. "I had a question about the Grignard reaction?" 

Bilbo felt his shoulders relax. "Ah. Which part?"

* * *

Given the questions from his class, Bilbo wasn't surprised at the knots of excitement he heard swirling behind him as he walked through the halls to his office. He kept his head up and his gaze completely blank, but when he shut his office door behind himself, he leaned back against it and sighed, eyes closed.

"You look like a hunted rabbit," came Beorn's deep voice. 

Bilbo snorted. "I feel a bit hunted." He sat down in his chair and ran a hand over his face. "I've had the most startling conversation in my morning Organic class."

"Anything important?" Shelob sat on Beorn's shoulder, nearly hidden in his bushy hair, and he had what appeared to be a small goat in his lap. 

"Not really." Bilbo pulled out his laptop and opened it. "Nothing that I can't deal with. Just, I'm used to my personal life not being all that interesting, you know, and suddenly I'm the center of attention."

Beorn's gaze seemed knowing, but he didn't say anything, so Bilbo turned back to his computer and opened Gmail. There were three emails from students - two had OMG as the subjects, so he ignored them. The third was from someone asking if he had copies of his power point slides she could have. He sighed and replied, reminding her that they were all available on the class website and had been since the beginning of the school year.

He scrolled past the emails from people he'd met at the conference, then stopped. There was an email from the Dean of the College of Science.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: Dean Sijed_

_My dear Bilbo,_

_A few things have come to my attention and, as I believe we should address them before midterms and the holiday break, I would like to schedule a meeting with you in the coming week._

_I am available this afternoon, Thursday morning, and Friday just after noon. Please do let me know when will be convenient for you._

_Yours,_

_Dean Sijed_

"Oh for crying out loud..." Bilbo muttered. _Let's get this over with._

_To: Dean Sijed  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Dean Sijed,_

_I can meet this afternoon at 2 pm._

_Bilbo_

Just before two o'clock, Bilbo locked his office and walked to the Dean's office. There were fewer bursts of excited chatter as he passed students, which made him hope that the novelty would wear off soon. He shared a smile with Esmeralda, the administrator, and stepped into the Dean's office.

A grey-haired man looked up from his computer and smiled at him across his desk, piled high with old books and filled notebooks. "Ah, Bilbo," he said. "Have a seat."

Bilbo sank into one of the chairs in front of the cluttered desk. "Good afternoon, Gandalf. Did you have a good weekend?" _Let's see how the old meddler starts this conversation._

Gandalf leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together over his waist. "Oh, very fine, thank you. How was yours?"

Bilbo's answer was forestalled by the opening of the door. "Ms Bracegirdle," said Gandalf in warm tones. "Thank you for arranging to meet so quickly." He gestured to the other chair and Lobelia slipped around Bilbo and sat. She crossed her legs and leaned back, looking entirely comfortable. Bilbo felt his shoulders tighten.

"Now we're all here, shall we begin? Over the past few years, there have been some confusion about lab supplies," Gandalf started, but Bilbo leaned forward.

"There has _not_. No one is confused at all. Lobelia - _Ms Bracegirdle_ \- has stolen supplies from my research laboratory many times. The most recent time, she disturbed an experiment which was _in progress_ and from which I and my graduate student for that project were expecting to have good results. Due to her theft, we've had to re-work the experiment and have had to delay publication of that research." Bilbo caught his breath and deliberately leaned back. 

Gandalf waited for a moment, then nodded. "Yes. Ms Bracegirdle has explained her behavior and has offered a suggestion which I believe will be, while sad for the department as a whole, an adequate response." He gestured to her and leaned back in his chair himself.

Bilbo turned to face Lobelia. _Great, another of her promises to be more concerned with other peoples' things._

"As you know, Bilbo, I have finally become engaged to get married." Lobelia uncrossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. "As Otho and I expect that we'll be married in the spring, I have decided that this will be my last quarter teaching. I hope to have other, more important, things upon which I can focus my attention, once I'm married." She smiled at Bilbo and he saw the malicious edge to it. "A married woman, after all, can't waste her time on trivial things like mindless freshmen who won't amount to much in the end."

"Ah," he said. _Well, that wasn't what I was expecting at all. She worked so hard to get this job, and for what in the end?_ "It's certainly your choice, but I don't understand in what way I am involved."

There was a pause and Bilbo looked back and forth between Gandalf and Lobelia. 

"May I ask if the gossip is true?" Gandalf looked directly at Bilbo and raised his brows. He gently re-laced his fingers.

"Gossip? Oh, yes, I spent the weekend with Thorin Durin." Bilbo crossed his arms and lifted his chin.

Gandalf smiled at him, blue eyes merry. "How nice for you. I'm sure it makes a change after ... what was his name again? That little squirmy man you'd been seeing before?"

"He's at least confirmably human, this one, I mean," came Lobelia's voice from next to Bilbo. Bilbo stiffened and turned. Her smile didn't quite make it to her eyes, but she was, at least, honestly smiling.

"How does my personal life, which _is_ personal, might I remind you, have anything to do with whether or not Lobelia stays on at the university?"


	22. Twenty Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets more than he expected on his first day back at work.

Twenty Two

Gandalf leaned forward and re-arranged the small stack of folders on his desk. "I believe Ms Bracegirdle has made her decision final," he said, nodding in her direction. Lobelia nodded in return. "As that is the case, I would have had to discuss the redistribution of classes with you regardless of anything in your personal life." He glanced up at Bilbo, who was surprised to see a gleam of mischief in his eyes. "However, Ms Bracegirdle felt it was important that I be apprised of your activities this weekend. Thus, I must ask if your new friend means you'll also be leaving us."

"Of course not. Why would ... There's no reason for me to leave the University." _And damn Lobelia for being such a gossip._

Gandalf sat back, smiling. "This is very good news." He opened the top folder on his desk. "A month ago I received a request from Lorien Institute. They have a team working on enzyme kinetics and they're interested in working with some of the members of our faculty. At first, I'd thought that Ms Bracegirdle would wish to work on the team, but as she's leaving - and for such an important life goal - I thought that you, Bilbo, might be interested." 

Bilbo swallowed. "I, ah, working with the reseachers at Lorien would be wonderful, but enzyme kinetics aren't exactly my specialty." 

Gandalf waved a hand. "Never fear. I've spoken to Ms Nenya. She has expressed delight at the opportunity to work with you and has many suggestions for ways in which you can add to the project."

Bilbo sat back slowly. _I could work with Galadriel Nenya. That's ... holy shit._ He started to smile, then jumped when Lobelia stood up.

"You bastard," she snarled. Bilbo blinked up at her, but she was glaring at Gandalf. "You've never liked me as well as you liked him, and this just proves it. I'd be perfect for that research and you damn well know it. I've been working on enzyme kinetics for the past year and you give this to _him_?" She threw her arm out in Bilbo's direction so sharply that her nails nearly caught Bilbo's cheek. "And _you_ ," she snapped, turning to Bilbo. "You think you're so fucking perfect, don't you? You and your fucking weirdo artist mother. I don't know why your father married her - none of us do." She sobbed in a breath. "And now you went off and had a disgusting public _dirty weekend_ and get my research opportunity as a reward."

She stormed past Bilbo, shoving him aside as she moved to the door. "I hate you, and I always will." She didn't look back, but Bilbo saw her face as she left and, to his horror, she was weeping.

"Lobelia," he called, half standing.

"Let her go, lad," said Gandalf gently. "She brought this on herself, no matter what she thinks. I wouldn't have offered Ms Bracegirdle the research opportunity after this last difficulty with lab supplies." His face was very sad. "She has a long life ahead of her in which to put into effect the lessons which this experience will have taught her." 

He closed the folder and handed it to Bilbo. "Now, on to more pleasant things. This is what Lorien is currently working on. I'm sure you'll want to read over the materials." He laced his fingers together. "We'll have a departmental meeting in the next few days to discuss the Winter quarter and scheduling the course instruction. Now, I believe you've some reading to do. Shall I tell Ms Nenya you're interested in working with her team?"

Bilbo pressed his lips together. "Yes, thank you." He stood up, tucking the folder under his arm. 

Outside Gandalf's office, he set the folder down on Esmeralda's desk and ran his hands over his face. With a sigh, he asked, "Did you see where Lobelia went?"

Esmeralda smiled at him. "No. She stormed out of here and turned right, but I'm not sure where she was going." She leaned forward. "Is it true? She's leaving?"

Bilbo nodded. "Yeah. She's getting married - she's engaged to the man she's wanted to marry since we were all kids." He sighed, looking down at the folder emblazoned with the two tall trees of the Lorien logo. "Somehow, I don't think this was in her plans, though." 

* * *

He sat at the desk in his research lab, reading the papers from Lorien. He looked up when he heard the click of the door and a heavy thump.

Ori stood just inside the door, pulling off his jacket. He'd already dumped his backpack on the floor; it reminded Bilbo of Frodo's bag, spilling out random shreds of paper and daily detritus.

"So," Ori said, moving to the lab bench and sitting on one of the tall stools. "There's all _sorts_ of gossip going on out there." He grinned at Bilbo's groan. "I'll take it from your response that it's all true."

Bilbo snorted. "That's entirely dependent upon what the gossip is saying." He leaned back in his chair, still feeling a bit overwhelmed by the confusion of the day. 

Ori propped his elbow on the lab bench and rested his chin in his hand. "Well, the big news is that Lobelia's leaving. Please tell me that part's true."

Bilbo sighed. "Yes, she's leaving at the end of the quarter. It's a mess, so be nice."

Ori's eyebrows shot up. "When haven't I been?"

"True," Bilbo said. "Just, something else happened and she's honestly upset about it, so she'll be a bit touchier than usual."

Ori muttered something under his breath. He turned away from Bilbo to look at the small centrifuge on the bench. "Anyway, the second thing I heard is that you'll be leaving- that you're going to work at Lorien Institute." 

Bilbo coughed. "What? No! No, I'm not going anywhere." He glanced at the folder on the desk and ran his hand down the back of his head. 

Ori sat up and propped his hands on his hips. "What's going on? You're hiding something." He slid off the stool and picked up the folder. "This is Lorien's logo... " He opened the folder and read the title of the first paper. "Okay, so if you're not leaving, what's this about?"

Bilbo couldn't stop the smile from rising to his face. "I'm going to be working with them on one of their research teams. It's something to do with enzymes and I'm not quite sure what else." He grinned up at Ori. "I've got so much reading to do."

Ori laughed.

Later that evening, at dinner, Bilbo sat happily listening to Frodo tell him everything he and Sam had done while Bilbo had been away. Apparently, they'd spent a lot of the time with Merry and Pippin, playing their game, but he started paying more attention when Frodo mentioned staying up late talking to Sam.

"And then Merry's dad called and he and Pippin had to go. I had no idea Pippin's related to Hobbiton's mayor." Frodo pulled ice cream from the freezer, waving it at Bilbo in question. When he nodded, Frodo scooped the ice cream into two bowls and came back to the table. "Anyway," he went on, "so after they left, Sam and I sat up late. He wanted to look at the stars - he thinks he can see the Phoenix, but I keep telling him it'll be below the trees on the next street."

Bilbo nodded. "I think you're right, but if he's really interested, we can go up to Mt Tam and see if we get a better view from up there."

"Oh, that'd be great," Frodo said. "He'd like that." He paused. "Can we invite Rosie as well?"

"Rosie?" Bilbo looked into Frodo's face. "Are you sure? I mean, of course we can, if you want, but..." 

Frodo stirred his spoon through the last of his dessert. "She came over a couple of times. She's okay." He shrugged, but Bilbo thought there was something he wasn't saying. 

"Sure, then, if you want." Bilbo stood and brought their bowls to the sink. "I've got homework, so I'll be up late, but you're to be in bed by midnight, okay kiddo?"

"Wait, you didn't tell me anything about you and Thorin!" Frodo grinned at Bilbo. "You sent me a couple of pictures of the aquarium but nothing else. Was it great? Did you go to one of the concerts?"

Bilbo laughed. "Yeah, I did. That part was interesting - I didn't know what the harp guitar sounded like before that. He started with this song, something about mountains and gold and lost history... or," he thought for a moment. The words of the song had seemed less important than the feeling, at the time, but now he felt silly because he couldn't say what the song had really been about.

"I think that one's called Misty Mountains. It sounds really cool and the youtube videos are wild. Were you the only grown up in the audience?" 

"I have no idea. I was upstairs in a hidden little box." At Frodo's confused expression, Bilbo laughed. "Box seat - they're fancy seats at the side of theaters where rich people sit."

"Oh. That's cool. Anyway," he waggled his eyebrows. "Was Thorin nice?"

Bilbo walked to the door, shaking his head. "The trip was very pleasant, thank you for asking. Scamp."

In his office, Bilbo opened Gmail, still smiling at Frodo's teasing. There was an email from Galadriel Nenya and three from Thorin. 

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: GNenya_

_Dear Professor Baggins,_

_I was glad to hear from our mutual friend Gandalf that you are interested in working with my team. I'm aware that our current focus on enzyme kinetics isn't something you are particularly familiar with, but we are very excited at the thought of working with you. Your understanding of the ionic interactions will be valuable throughout the project._

_Shall we schedule a time for you to meet the rest of the team? We can show you our campus and you will have a chance to see the labs and get a feel for where you'll fit in._

_Please let me know when you will be available and be assured, I'll make our schedules work around yours._

_I look forward to a prosperous relationship,_

_Dr Galadriel Nenya_

Bilbo sat back. _Well, that's exceptionally flattering._ He checked his schedule and wrote a response; he could meet on Friday afternoon, or if she thought they'd need more than a few hours, he could arrange to have one of his lectures covered by a graduate student.

Still smiling, he opened the first of Thorin's emails. 

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_You've hardly left and the hotel room already seems empty. I think I'll go see if the kids want to rehearse - I feel like writing and I'd like to see if I can get a couple of songs written before I get back. Maybe I can play them for you._

_Would you like to come over to my house for dinner, when I'm home from the tour? I live up in Marin, and the views are amazing. My sister's been watering my plants. Sometimes I think she's there more than I am, but I'm beginning to think of touring less._

_Maybe I could settle into writing music only. The teenybopper stars need someone to write the music they make so popular, right? That would mean I'd be home more of the year instead of spending so much time in hotel rooms._

_Anyway, I'm not even sure you've landed yet. I hope your flight was okay. I wish you'd have let me upgrade you. Economy class is awful._

_Thorin_

Bilbo ran a finger over his lips, then smiled and opened the next email. 

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_Bifur says that his cousin - maybe you met him, he was at the Summer's End concert, he and Bifur make these amazing carved creatures. Anyway, Bofur said he was watching one of the late night trash gossip shows and they mentioned something about us._

_I don't know if he meant just the band or if you're involved. I'll find out and let you know._

_I told you to just go straight into the hotel. I wasn't kidding. These people are relentless, Bilbo. You can't expect them to be reliable about anything except being total invasive assholes._

_Thorin_

Bilbo sat back. The paparazzi had been unexpected, but not horrifying. He thought for a minute, then opened Google and looked for the pictures himself.

There were only about ten pictures, in the end, and most of them were blurry. There were two of him by himself in the door of the jewelry store, one of him and Thorin walking towards the store, and then about seven shots of him getting out of the car. Three of those were too blurry to see his face clearly, but in one of the clear photographs he was looking directly into the camera.

The attending articles all were speculation about who Thorin's new boy-toy was. They all seemed to be looking for people who lived on the east coast, and none of the guesses were close to his actual identity. 

One link led him to a forum for fans of the band. Most of the posts were about the shows and music, but each band member had his own individual forum. Thorin's was over-run with questions about who Thorin was seeing. Some fans had suggested he might have been paid for the night, but that was laughed down by others saying that no self-respecting paid escort would wear something so banal as a button-down oxford style shirt.

Bilbo looked down at the shirt he'd put on that morning, a pale blue one with thin darker blue stripes, and chuckled. "Good to know I look too boring to be an escort."

Other fans were less kind. His looks and clothing and expressions were all dissected; after half an hour's reading, Bilbo started to feel queasy. None of these people knew him, but they all had strongly formed opinions about who he was and what he was doing. Very few seemed to be happy about Thorin having any kind of date, and some went so far as to say that he, Thorin, shouldn't be dating someone who wasn't either hot or useful.

Bilbo closed the website and stared at the computer screen, then opened Thorin's third email.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Bilbo,_

_It's all over the gossip news that I had a date in Baltimore. No one seems to know who you are yet, but that won't last. You shouldn't have looked at any of them that night._

_Why did you? I know I told you to ignore them. You don't understand what they're like, what it's like to live with those people in your face all the time. If you did you'd ..._

_Maybe it's best if you don't learn._

_Thorin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting side stories, titled Stories from the B Side, to Unexpected Music as I write them. There'll be one going up later this Saturday.


	23. Twenty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo sounds confident enough, but the pile of stress-baking isn't so reassuring.

Twenty Three

 

Bilbo sat in bed, his laptop half buried in his comforter. He hadn't been able to sleep, so he'd gotten up and started working on the edits Nori had sent him for his third novel. At first he hadn't been able to concentrate - all he'd been able to picture was the way the people on the band fan forum had talked about him - but after a few minutes of forcing himself to read every single word on the page in front of him, he'd lost himself in his story.

After working for several hours, he sighed, saved, closed the computer and heaved himself out of bed. "Maybe what I need is a cup of cocoa and some cookies," he muttered, wandering down the hall.

In the kitchen, he filled a pot with milk and set it over low heat on the stove. After mixing some powdered Dutch cocoa powder with homemade vanilla sugar and rummaging through the cupboards for the mint flavored marshmallows he'd made a week or so before, he settled down at the table to wait for the milk to heat.

On the counter, his phone screen flashed; it showed three missed calls, all from Thorin. _Crap._ He checked the time. It was nearly 2am. _He'll be asleep - I'll call him tomorrow._

As he sat down again, the phone rang and Thorin's face popped up on the screen. Bilbo swiped his thumb across the screen and held it to his ear. 

"Thorin! What are you doing up? It's five in the morning."

"Where have you been?" Thorin's voice was tense.

"In bed? Why?" Bilbo shuffled over to stir the milk. Nearly there.

"I..." There was a huge sigh from Thorin's side of the phone. "I just needed to talk to you. It's important."

Bilbo tucked the phone between his shoulder and cheek and nodded, then remembered Thorin couldn't see him. "Uh huh," he said, concentrating on stirring in the cocoa powder. "It couldn't wait until daytime? I hope you didn't stay up all night."

Thorin coughed, and Bilbo found himself smiling at the image he had of Thorin, cheeks slightly pink, looking away as if he could pretend that he hadn't heard the comment. "It looks like they don't know who you are," he said.

"Well, it's not as if I'd be easy to find, especially if they're looking in Baltimore." Bilbo sat down at the table with his mug and then stood back up. He'd wanted cookies to go with the cocoa.

"It's not that. They'll find you and it'll be ... just, it's not fair of me to involve you in anything like this. You have no idea what it can be like. I'm used to being hounded, but there's no reason to force you - someone else - to be involved in the sort of insanity that comes with my job."

Bilbo stood at the pantry door, brows drawing together.

"What do you mean force?"

"Let me say this and then it'll all be done, okay?" It sounded like Thorin's jaw was clenched so tightly he couldn't open his mouth. "This is ... I don't want to do this, but I think it's best if we don't continue, if we ... if _you_ are unattached to me. I don't want you to be harmed, so if we just - " He heaved a breath. "You can still escape this and the rest doesn't matter."

Bilbo dropped the container of oatmeal raisin cookies on the table next to his mug.

"What? Are you _breaking up with me?_ " He made himself sit down slowly. Now was no time to move so fast he missed the chair, like the time he'd been accepted to grad school.

"I - yes." There was a short pause, then Thorin continued. "It's for the best, and I'm sure you'll be able to find someone else very quickly. You're a very handsome man, you'll be able to go back to your life and find someone safe to settle down with."

There was silence, in the room and across the continent. Then Bilbo leaned forward and covered his eyes with a hand. "Let me get this straight. Some stupid sleaze mongers from a rag of a gossip paper take photos of me, of us, and you're dumping me?"

Thorin's silence managed to sound guilty.

"So," Bilbo continued. "I was reading on _Erebor Underground_." He heard Thorin stop breathing. "And it's interesting, what they were saying. They seemed to think that I'm too fat for you, or not tall enough. Or maybe I'm just using you - since it's clear from my clothes that I'm a ... what did that one person say? Right. I'm a 'white trash ho-bag with the style sense of a homeless street walker'." 

Bilbo paused and took a sip of cocoa. Somehow, he felt calmer and more relaxed. Something about saying the bizarre insults out loud made it obvious how ridiculous they were.

"You don't... you're not - " Thorin whispered, his horror coming clearly through the phone.

Bilbo started laughing. "Thorin. It's _okay_. They're just ... they don't know me. They're people I'll never meet, talking to each other about someone they think they know. They're fans of you and the band, but they're not ... they're not _real_ , if that makes sense." He chewed contemplatively on the last cookie. "I mean, they're obviously real, they can post things on a computer forum. But, they're not people I'm ever going to have to interact with in real life. And," he paused, hearing Thorin's still harsh breathing. " _neither will you_. They're just strangers with nasty opinions."

Thorin sighed.

"Unless, of course," Bilbo said slowly, "unless you agree with them. If you're doing this because you've had a sudden epiphany that I'm not someone you want to get to know better, then yes, please do get on with the dumping. Only, please don't blame it on the media, just be honest."

"Oh god, Bilbo, that's the last thing I want. I want to be with you - I want to see you more and find out more about what you think and what you look like when you're upset because we're lost, or ... Bilbo, I - " His voice trailed off into a tight squeak, as if his throat had closed. 

"Well good," Bilbo said firmly. "Good, because that's how I feel as well. You woke up before me both days, so I still don't know what you look like when you're only just waking up, and that's something important to know about a person, don't you think?"

Thorin laughed, low and rough. "Oh Bilbo," he sighed. "Everything's so much clearer when I talk to you."

Bilbo smiled down into his empty mug. "Good. Now go to sleep. It's already Tuesday morning and you'll be home in a week. Let's plan on dinner when you get back, okay? I can cook - I make a mean lasagne."

"I'll take you up on that," Thorin said. "And on your advice - suddenly I'm exhausted." He yawned and Bilbo caught himself yawning in response. "You shouldn't be up either. It's well after two am."

Bilbo laughed. "Oh, don't worry about me. I'm often up late. I have to find time to get my writing done, after all." 

"Writing?" Thorin yawned again. "Right, publish or perish. My cousin's always working on some paper or another. Anyway, good night. I'll see you in a week. Skype tomorrow night?"

Bilbo tried to get his too-tight lungs to cooperate. "That sounds perfect. Text me when you'll be free and I'll turn my laptop on."

When they'd hung up, Bilbo knocked his head on the table. "He doesn't know you're Bandobras Took, you idiot."

He sighed and looked around the room. _Well, I'm not going to get any sleep tonight, that's for sure. Sam likes those raspberry oatmeal bars, maybe I should make a batch._

When Frodo stumbled into the kitchen later, he found Bilbo surrounded by plastic containers filled with cookies. He turned slowly in the room, then looked at Bilbo, head tilted. 

"Bad night?" He yawned widely and Bilbo groaned.

"Something like. People took pictures of us last weekend and they're online." Bilbo ran his hands over his face. "Thorin didn't take it well."

Frodo frowned. "He was mad at you?" 

Bilbo looked up at Frodo's sharp tone. "No. He was worried that I'd be ... I don't know, hounded to death or something, so he called to say we shouldn't keep dating."

Frodo rolled his eyes. "Right, like you'd let that stop you if you were interested in someone." He hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder and looked around the kitchen. "Did you make breakfast as well as the world's supply of cookies?"

Bilbo shook his head. "No, but that stack over there is for your teachers. The container on the bottom's raspberry oatmeal bars for Sam and a couple of blueberry muffins for you."

Frodo grinned and peeled open the container, pulling out a bar and a muffin and setting them aside to eat on the way to school. "Sam'll love this, thanks! And, uh," he paused. "Rose likes blondies." His face was bright red as he snatched the stack of containers and rushed out of the room.

_She does, does she?_ Bilbo grinned, then looked down at himself and squawked. "Hell, I've got to hurry if I'm going to get showered before class."

The day went better than the previous one. He spent an hour in the stock room setting up the next few experiments for his Organic Chemistry labs. The time was filled with happy chat with Arwen, who ran the stock room with an iron fist clad in a steel glove. She and Lobelia had never gotten along, but she'd always been helpful to Bilbo.

"... and then," Arwen said, grinning, "the idiot said, 'Oh, well, I don't believe you' and poured the whole container of baking soda into his leftover sodium hydroxide. The foam nearly exploded. It covered him from head to toe." She smirked at Bilbo and went back to sorting glassware into sets for chemical batteries for the kids in General Chemistry. "At least he and the other kids finally understand that eye protection is important."

Bilbo snorted. "How long did it take to clean up?" He lined up another set of ten small glass jars and started sorting out chemicals to fill them. 

Arwen smiled down at her work. "Oh, Aragorn had it swept up in less than an hour, but still. I'm charging the kid's account for the broken beaker and Aragorn's time." 

Bilbo goggled at her. "But he's ... "

"Oh, not really. I mean, I'm charging him for more than the beaker, but not Aragorn's actual wage. The student's been giving Kara trouble since the beginning of the school year. We're just hoping this'll teach him to pay more attention."

Bilbo nodded, counting under his breath. When he looked up, she was watching him, her dark eyes sharp.

"You look tired," she said. "Want to talk about it?"

Bilbo straightened up. _Do I?_ "Maybe, but here's not the - "

"HEY, Miz Indomul," a student called, "I gotta borrow a set of goggles."

" _Undomiel_ ", Arwen muttered. "It's not that hard." She sighed and watched as the student signed the goggles out with their student ID. When the student had turned and was walking down the hall, already checking her phone, Arwen turned back to Bilbo. "Right, this isn't the place. Coffee, after I close up?"

"Sounds great," Bilbo said, standing up himself. "Can you have one of your minions bring this cart to room 485 tomorrow by noon? Thanks." He gave her a quick hug and left, heading for the lab he shared with Ori. Once there, he checked over the latest experimental run and sat down to go over the results of the last few runs.

That Friday, he sat quietly at his dining room table and watched as Sam and Frodo plied Rosie Cotton with dinner. He'd made roast pork with apple, mashed potatoes, steamed three kinds of vegetable, and had made blondies as well as pie for dessert. Rosie was pink with laughing at the boys' antics, and made them both sit down and serve themselves. Not, Bilbo noted to himself, that either had any trouble filling - and then emptying - their plates.

She'd been very polite when Frodo brought her down the hall to introduce her. She'd come home with the boys after school, so when Bilbo came home from his late afternoon Friday office hours, she'd handed him a bottle of hard cider as soon as he'd walked in from his late afternoon office hours. 

"My ma sent it," she said, twisting her hands together. "Her ma makes it and says she knows you from Hobbiton. Ma's Lily Cotton, Lily Brown as was." 

Bilbo chuckled. "Ah yes, I know your ma. We were in class together in primary school. Do pass along my thanks for the cider. I haven't had her mother's cider in far too long. Tell her I'm exceedingly grateful. And next time you go home to visit your granny, let me know first and I'll send along a plateful of the gingerbread she's been trying to get the recipe for since I was younger than you."

Later, while Bilbo worked on editing his novel, he listened with half an ear to the chatter coming from Frodo's room. The kids were talking about something to do with the ocean and Bilbo sighed. He hadn't heard from Drogo or Primula in at least two weeks. He didn't think Frodo had heard either - they always shared any emails they got.

With that in mind, he opened Gmail and sent an email to them, telling them about Frodo's latest adventures at school and the current inclusion of Rosie Cotton. After a little thought, he didn't say anything about his suspicions about Frodo's relationship with Sam, but he did send an email about the whole thing to his mother, who was sure to have something reasonable - or at least entertaining - to say.

He didn't hear from Thorin before going to bed, but he wasn't really surprised. This was the penultimate concert of the tour and Thorin had told him all about the series of events planned for the entire band. Bilbo privately thought that he'd be surprised if Thorin managed to wake up tomorrow before needing to get dressed for the last show. 

He went to bed planning the dinner he wanted to make for Thorin's first night at his house.


	24. Twenty Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meetings in the trees and planning for the holiday.

Twenty Four

Tuesday morning, Bilbo saw Frodo off to school and grinned to himself. Ori was taking his one on-campus class, an Upper Division inorganic chemistry lab, and it felt oddly like playing hooky.

He spent an hour after breakfast catching up on the editing Nori had sent him. Finally, he sent the finished half of the novel back to Nori and grabbed a sandwich as he left the house.

Lorien Institute was in the Berkeley hills, hidden in a large wooded campus. Bilbo drove past the gate twice before he saw the hidden opening between a small independent coffee shop which seemed oddly well-to-do, and a grove of old coastal cedar trees. He turned down the narrow road and was amazed at how quickly the sounds of the city disappeared. 

The gate itself wasn't what he expected. He drove past a sequoia and blinked as three slender men stepped out from the woods at the side of the road. One stood in the road in front of him, one stood behind his car, and the third approached his window, bending to look in.

"I, ah, I'm expected?" Bilbo said, sticking his hand out the window, intending to shake hands. 

The man's cool grey eyes looked through Bilbo, then swept over his car. "You are Dr Baggins?" His voice was inflectionless and flat, but, Bilbo thought, somehow not un-menacing.

"Yes, I'm here to meet Dr Nenya." Bilbo stopped. The man stood quickly, touched his ear, and then the three of them vanished almost as quickly as if they had magical powers. 

"Wow." Bibo sat in his unmoving car for a moment. "That was weird." After a deep breath, he started the car again and drove forward. "Nothing for it now - they've probably told everyone I'm on the way. I'd better hurry."

Without warning, the little road opened out into a wide, sunlit meadow with cars parked neatly on it. Bilbo braked again - there was something odd about the grass. After a moment, he saw that where the cars were parked, the grass was growing through what looked like bits of pipe. 

A sign stood at the end of the road: "Park on the left, the Grasphalt needs testing." He chuckled and drove left. 

The buildings were set amongst the trees; each seemed as if it had been built to work around the environment rather than make the trees move. There was a giant live oak at the front door of the main building and Bilbo patted it as he walked past. 

Dr Nenya met him in her office; it was small, but the floor to ceiling windows looking out over a little brook made it feel as if she were working in the forest rather than in a building. With a start, he realized one of the windows was half open. The bird calls and skittery sounds weren't coming from an ambient sound program, but from the trees outside.

"Ah, Dr Baggins," she said, standing to greet him. She was tall, with long golden blonde hair that fell loose down her back nearly to her thighs. 

"If we're going to work together," he said, shaking her hand and smiling, "I'm Bilbo. It's just easier."

She smiled in return. "How kind. Galadriel." She turned at a small sound and nodded at a tall blond man with his own long hair held back in a low pony tail. "Celeborn, this is Dr Baggins. Bilbo."

Bilbo reached to shake the newcomer's hand. "Good to meet you."

Celeborn inclined his head, looked meaningfully at Galadriel for a moment, then gave a half-bow. "Likewise. I expect I'll see you at lunch." He turned and walked down the hall, leaving Bilbo feeling a little confused. _Well, he's a stiff, isn't he?_

Galadriel said, "Why don't you leave your bag here and we'll go tour the labs?"

Two hours later, Bilbo looked at the long serving table filled with a variety of dishes. "Wow," he said, "this looks amazing." There was a short queue of lab staff working down the table, piling their plates with food. At Galadriel's gesture, he joined the line. "Do you always put on this kind of spread, or is it a party?"

When his plate was full, he sat at a small table nearby. A man with dark hair sat down across from him, nodding at Galadriel, who sat next to Bilbo.

"Oh, this is our weekly lunch." He looked around the room. "Is there a conference? We're missing a few people." His plate was neatly organized with two different meats on a bed of orzo, a pile of roasted vegetables, and a large plate of salad on the side. He smiled at Bilbo. "Haldir, head of security."

Bilbo looked up from his own plate. "I met some of your men, when I came in."

Haldir cocked a brow at him and smirked slightly. Next to Bilbo, Galadriel snorted quietly. 

"He'll be joining us," she said to Haldir, "so he'll need a pass. To the enzyme buildings certainly, and I think at least one of the flet-houses. One of the singles would be best."

Haldir nodded, scooped the last of his pasta into his mouth, then stood up. "I'll get that ready for you." He looked at Galadriel. "Three o'clock okay? I've got to see which of the singles is ready."

By three o'clock, Bilbo's head was spinning. He'd seen more in each lab than he'd expected to be allowed to see - Lorien Institute was renouned for its innovations and fierce devotion to privacy and security. He sat alone in Galadriel's office, the soft afternoon sounds of the small woods outside soothing. 

Then he heard two familiar voices outside. Two people were laughing and talking as they walked through the trees - he couldn't quite place the voices, but he was sure he knew them. One almost sounded like ...

A bright face poked in through the open window.

"Arwen," Bilbo cried. "What are you doing here?" 

She stepped into the office, followed by a tall, weathered man with nearly black hair kept just shoulder length. She wrapped her arm around his waist and grinned at Bilbo.

"I'm just visiting," she said.

"And it's about time, as well," Galadriel said, from the doorway, "although I'd expected you to come in the front. Trust you to come in through the woods." She smiled at the two of them and swept them into a long hug. 

Bilbo felt his eyebrows rise. 

"I believe you've met my grand-daughter," Galadriel said, turning to sit at her desk. "And of course, her young man, Aragorn." 

"I, erm. Yes, of course." Bilbo sat back down. Arwen pushed Aragorn into the second empty chair and perched on the chair's arm. "She didn't tell me she was related to you."

Arwen laughed. "It wasn't important until now. I mean," she grinned as she caught her grand-mother's expression. "I mean, it wasn't important to _you_ "

Bilbo chuckled. "That's true enough. So, why expose the secret now?"

"We thought it would be easier to let you know before you found out accidentally." Aragorn's deep voice was calm, but his expression was amused.

Bilbo nodded. "I, ah, I'll keep it to myself, then."

"As that is out of the way, there are a few things which I need to discuss with Bilbo, so surely there are things you and Aragorn could be doing?" Galadriel's voice was tart, making Bilbo smile and think of his mother. 

After the two latecomers had left - back out the window into the woods - Galadriel smiled at him. "I love having my family close, but sometimes ..."

Bilbo laughed. "Yes, I can't imagine working with my nephew."

"Now," Galadriel said, "shall we discuss how your time here will be organized?"

*** 

Bilbo stood blankly in the middle of the aisle at the grocery store and stared at the boxes of pasta. _Things are moving very fast all of a sudden. I wonder ..._ With a sigh, he put two boxes of lasagne noodles in his cart and rolled down the aisle. _What do I need next? Cheese, and milk, and what am I making for dessert?_

While he was standing in the baking aisle, he thought of Frodo and smiled. _I wonder how he and Sam figured out whatever was going on with them and Rosie. I'll probably never know._ He added some butterscotch chips to the basket, then a pound of coarse ground cornmeal. 

In the vegetable section, he stocked up on leeks and broccoli and tomatoes, then stood thinking, in front of the avocados. _I should make guacamole, and then we can have it before dinner._ He tossed in three avocados, wandered to get a bunch of cilantro, then hurried back for three more avocados. _Nearly forgot. Frodo can eat a whole bowl himself._

That evening, he sat at the table after dinner, ears still ringing from Frodo's enthusiastic rendition of some pop song or another. He had the paperwork from Lorien spread out and was trying to put it in order. He'd got out several file folders, a handful of colored pens, and was enjoying half an hour of organizing.

"... and if I put the stuff about the organic fuels here, then it's all wrapped up and neat." He tapped the now-full folders into order and smiled. "All done. Now, maybe it's time for some writing. I can practically feel the horses champing at the bit."

He got lost in the writing, only coming back to himself well after midnight when his phone flashed and he saw Thorin's face.

"Hullo," he said, swiping his thumb across the phone to answer it. "Are you home yet? And why are you up so late?"

"I could ask the same of you," Thorin said, his voice rough. "And no, not quite yet. We fly back tomorrow. I stayed a couple of days down at Dwalin's. He's got a ranch outside Baltimore, in a little place called Monkton. Horses and stuff."

Bilbo smiled. "That sounds nice."

"Yeah, I spent half my time re-reading _Rhovanion_. The second one's coming out soon, right?" Thorin yawned. "How'd the interview go with that other place, Loreal?"

"Lorien." Bilbo snorted. "And it was great. It's huge, but somehow ..." he thought for a minute. "It's entirely in the woods - it's as if it's not in the middle of a hugely populated area, you know? Galadriel, the main scientist, her office has huge windows that open up to the outdoors."

"Windows generally do."

Bilbo shook his head. "No, I mean, we were on the ground floor and she had windows that went down to the floor of the room and they were open and there were trees outside. And you could go out there and walk in the forest." He laughed, thinking of the way Arwen and Aragorn had climbed into the office. "Or, of course, you could come into the office that way."

"Huh. That sounds nice. Did you get an office?" There were rustly sounds and Bilbo pictured Thorin snuggling down into bed.

"No. Well, yes, but nothing like that. It's one of a set of offices - there were little alcovey branch corridors with groups of offices and I've got one in the Kinetics wing." Bilbo saved and closed his file, then stood up. "Come into the kitchen with me?"

Thorin laughed. "I'll follow you anywhere."

"Well," Bilbo smiled, "you're a captive audience, anyway. I've got the phone." In the kitchen, he started boiling water for tea.

"Anyway," he continued. "The neat thing is that I've got a room there."

"A lab?"

"No, sorry. I mean, they gave me the key to a little studio apartment thingy on the campus."

"So you're moving?" Thorin yawned again.

"You're exhausted, sweet. I'm not moving, it's in case I work late and am too tired to go home, or if there's an overnight run of something." Bilbo poured the water into his teacup and stirred, watching the water darken into delicious tea. 

"Mmm, good. I want to see your home before you flit off and join some forest-dwelling chemistry cult." 

Bilbo snorted. "They do have good food, but I'm pretty sure they're not, in fact, elves or fairies, unfortunately."

Thorin laughed. "Gimli will be so disappointed."

"I should invite him over again soon. It's nearly midterms, I've got two this week. Maybe he could come and play with my set of maniacs after the holiday." He sat down at the table. "Which reminds me, I can't come to your family's thing, but my mom and dad really want to meet you. Mom's asked me to ask you if you could come over on a weekend sometime?"

Bilbo could hear Thorin smile. "Which day is good for her? My sister's doing the dinner this year, but I can come on Saturday, if that works for her. And you."

"I'll call her. Now go to bed. I'll talk to you tomorrow?" Bilbo smiled down at the phone after Thorin hung up. Then he finished his tea and went to bed himself.


	25. Twenty Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's coming for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is mentioned off-screen character death in this chapter.

Twenty Five

Bilbo wiped his hands on the kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder and stood back to survey the kitchen.

"Okay," he muttered. "The lasagne's in the oven - another half hour to go - and the salad's chopped and done. I made the dressing yesterday ... yes, that's out to warm. Wine?" He turned and looked across the room. "Yes, on the table. And - " he peeked into the fridge. "white's in the fridge. Right. There's pie done and pie to go in, and I've got the shortbread made and - "

The sound of the doorbell made him jump. "Dear god, is it time already?"

Thorin stood at the door, looking away down the street. When Bilbo opened the door, he swung around, smiling. 

"Hi," he said. "This is nice."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows and looked down the street. "My street? It's, uh. It's a street. Trees, cars, cracked sidewalks." He looked at Thorin and smiled. "Maybe you're just too used to fancy places, but we here in the - " He broke off as Thorin started to laugh.

"Right. I just didn't expect something quite this almost rural." 

Bilbo stood back. "I'm glad you could find it. Come in." 

Thorin looked around as he stepped through the door and Bilbo spared a moment to just look at Thorin. He was wearing comfortable old jeans and a blue button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He had a small paper bag with handles in one hand and he held it out to Bilbo.

"Wine," he said, "and something for Frodo. I - " he blushed. "I hope he likes it."

"Oh, you really didn't need to bring anything." Bilbo peeked into the bag and chuckled. "On the other hand, he'll love it." He pulled out the bottle of wine. "Oh, V Sattui. I love them. Leave your shoes on the pile and let's go open this. Their Zins are always amazing."

He trotted off to the kitchen, where he carefully pulled the cork from the bottle. "There," he said, turning to Thorin, who'd followed him. "Let's let that settle for dinner. The lasagne's got about half an hour, is that okay?"

Thorin nodded. "Sounds good." He tucked his hands into his pockets and Bilbo was struck by how nervous he looked.

Bilbo stepped closer, winding his arms around Thorin's waist. "Now that everything's just waiting for dinner to finish, how about let's say hello correctly." He leaned up and pressed his lips to Thorin's.

Thorin's arms came up around him immediately; one wrapped around his waist and the other curved up his back. That hand buried itself in Bilbo's hair. Bilbo felt as if he were being hugged everywhere, warm strength surrounding him. Thorin's lips on his were intoxicating.

In a minute or two, Thorin pulled back and looked down at Bilbo. "Hello. Nice to see you again."

Bilbo huffed a laugh and dropped his head to Thorin's collarbone. "You, too." He kissed the corner of Thorin's jaw, then stepped back. Would you like something to drink? A quick something to eat before dinner? I've got a nice white wine in the fridge?"

They ended up bringing the bottle of white wine and two glasses into the living room. Thorin turned in place, looking at the room. "This is lovely," he said. "And I can guess where these came from." He touched the carving of the little man and the tall elf with gentle fingers, then froze. He reached out carefully and picked up the carving of the dwarf, turning to hold it out to Bilbo. "You have Deathless."

"I ... yes. Bofur gave him to me." Bilbo sat down in his favorite chair. "He rather insisted, in fact. Why?" He took a sip of wine. "Because Bifur seemed surprised as well, and I don't quite understand. I mean - " He gestured with his hand at the carved figure. "It's just a little carving. It's incredibly well done, but in the end, just a toy, right?"

Thorin took a larger sip from his glass and sat opposite Bilbo, Deathless cupped gently in his hand. "God, how long ago was it now?" He sat still and Bilbo watched as he lost himself in the past. His eyes, usually so bright and focused, were vague and distant. "I think it started when we were just getting out of college. The band was starting out - we did gigs at the most ridiculous places. Tiny little pubs and anywhere, really, that'd take us." He drank more of the wine.

"It wasn't the same group, you know." He glanced at Bilbo, who shook his head. "I was there, obviously, and Dwalin, but he played drums. We went through a couple of bass guitarists before Gloin came on." Thorin looked up at Bilbo with a smile. "He's my cousin, you know. They're all family, one way or another." He set Deathless carefully on the coffee table, where the dwarf glared furiously at a stack of books Bilbo hadn't put away. 

"You have a big family?" Bilbo asked.

Thorin shook his head. "Not really. I mean, maybe?" He shrugged. "It's hard to say. They're my family, so they're the right size?" 

Bilbo chuckled. "Mine's huge, but many of them aren't really worth the time."

Thorin looked suddenly amused. "Right, you said something about your cousin or whatever she is. The teacher who stole your stuff. You said she's gone?"

Bilbo took his own rather large swig of wine. "She is. It's sort of a mess, but ... well." He leaned his elbows on his knees. "She's a cousin of sorts on her own, but she'll be an actual cousin when she marries Otho. She's been trying to bring him up to scratch for years and finally made him do it." 

"He didn't want to marry her?" Thorin sounded surprised.

Bilbo sighed. "He did. Does." He waved a hand. "But he'd been trying to hold out until he had a more stable position at work."

"That sounds reasonable." Thorin leaned back, crossing his legs. Bilbo felt a surge of pleasure at how comfortable he looked. 

"Oh, the rest of us thought so, but she didn't agree. She spent a year barely talking to him the first time he refused her." Bilbo sighed and stared into his empty glass before refilling both glasses. "I think some of the older aunties were hoping he'd call it off entirely."

There was a thump and the sound of pounding feet from the front door. 

"Hey _Bilbo_ ," shouted Frodo, "Sam and I have a thing for biology class and - OH." He stopped in the doorway; Bilbo could see Sam behind him, looking a bit chagrined. 

Thorin stood up, holding out his hand. "I think we've met, but I'm - " 

"Thorin Durin." Frodo stared up at him, then jumped when Sam nudged him. "Right, hi! I forgot you were coming. Uh." He looked over at Bilbo, who'd covered his eyes. "We can work on the project later."

Bilbo stood up. "Sam, you're welcome to stay for dinner if you like. We're having lasagne and salad, and there's pie for dessert."

Sam smiled and shook his head. "No thanks, I should get home. The biology project's not due until the end of the year anyway and I think mom needs me for the little ones tonight." He tugged on Frodo's sleeve. "I'll skype you when I'm done with dinner, yeah?"

Dinner was lively. Thorin and Bilbo finished the bottle of white wine and started on Thorin's red. Thorin ate nearly half the lasagne himself, which lent truth to his effusive compliments to Bilbo. Over the pie, Thorin asked Frodo what he was studying in school, which nearly immediately turned into a conversation about what Frodo was thinking about studying in college.

"You've a Mechanical Engineering degree, right?" Bilbo asked. 

Thorin nodded, then scooped up another bite of peach pie. "Mmph," he said, then swallowed and continued. "Yes, but I don't know that I'd be able to use it now. I haven't kept up with the field." He shrugged and Bilbo saw that he didn't look particularly upset. "Kili's not working in his field either, but Fili's doing more of the composing for us."

Frodo looked up. "There's a degree in writing songs for rock bands?"

Thorin chuckled. "Well, he's got a Masters in Music, so sort of. If you're interested, I'm sure he'd be happy to talk about it." 

"Really? Even though he doesn't know me?" Frodo leaned forward and Thorin nodded to him. 

"He's happy to talk about music all the time. He'd love it. I'll talk to him and see when he's got time, okay?" He sat up straight. "Oh, I nearly forgot. I brought something for you." He looked around the room.

Bilbo stood, brought the bag to the table and handed it to Thorin, who shoved it over to Frodo. Frodo glanced at Bilbo, then pulled out a large box of Lego designed around the game Frodo and his friends played. Frodo started laughing. 

"This is excellent," he said. "Wow, thank you. I'll have Sam and Rosie help me set it up! Oh, Pippin will be so jealous. He wanted this set but they'd sold out."

Bilbo watched Thorin's shoulders relax and wondered why he'd been so worried. "Okay kiddo," he said. "Clean up here and go hang out. Try to be in bed by midnight?"

Thorin followed Bilbo back to the living room. "He's a good kid." 

"Yeah," Bilbo said. "It's interesting having a temporary child. His parents are out in the South Pacific - I think they should be putting in somewhere in Australia soon, but I'm not sure. Their plans are sort of fluid."

Thorin snorted. "Nice." 

Bilbo grinned at him. "I try." He looked outside. "It's still warm out - would you like to go sit outside?"

In the back, they sat cuddled together on one of the cushioned wooden benches. Bilbo leaned back against Thorin's chest and pulled his arms around so he was wrapped up in Thorin's warmth.

"You never finished telling me about Deathless," he said softly. 

"Ah," Thorin breathed. He was silent for long enough to make Bilbo start to worry. 

"If it's not something you don't want to talk about - " 

"No, it's fine. It's not something I've had to talk about much. Not for years." Thorin breathed deeply then tucked his nose into the back of Bilbo's neck. "It's sort of about my brother and sort of why I never want to work with my father again."

Bilbo turned his head so his cheek rested on Thorin's head. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it."

Bilbo could feel Thorin's smile against his skin. "I'm just trying to figure out where to start. I guess I'll start with Nagli. He and Bofur and Bombur are cousins and - "

"Wait, Bombur? That great chef? He's related to Bofur?" Bilbo twisted around to look at Thorin who looked confused. 

"Yeah. Bofur and Bombur are brothers and Bifur's their cousin. Paternal cousin. Nagli was a maternal cousin." Thorin's hands ran up and down Bilbo's back, making him shiver slightly.

"Oh." Bilbo turned back around and curled back into Thorin's bulk. "Okay, so who's Nagli? Other than a cousin."

"He's Fili and Kili's father. He died in a car accident when the boys were very young. My sister's never quite recovered. I mean," he said, sounding a little anxious, "she's not pining anymore, but they were really each other's true love." He sighed. "If you believe in that sort of thing."

Bilbo sighed himself. "I think some people find something like true love. My parents seem to have. They don't look like they'd work, on the surface, but they've the best relationship I've ever known."

Thorin propped his chin on Bilbo's head. His hands were sliding slowly up and down Bilbo's arms, keeping them warm. "So, anyway, this was before the band had really taken off. My dad insisted I stop mucking about and get a real job, so I tried working with him for a couple of years." Bilbo could hear the resentment in Thorin's voice, even years after the event.

"What does your father do?" Bilbo laced the fingers of his right hand with Thorin's.

"He's got a large architecture firm in New York. I liked some of it - I liked designing houses for people to live in, stuff like that, but my father's company does mostly commercial stuff. Office towers and things like that." Bilbo nodded.

"I hated most of it. The time wasted on golf courses cozying up to corporate CEOs, the way we didn't do anything for real people. We had these great resources for helping those in need, but my father didn't want to 'throw away our time'." He shifted on the bench, bringing Bilbo closer. 

"Anyway, there was a disaster somewhere - I can't even remember where. Just some small country with some small local disaster. An earthquake. We had a big project going there, and it was half destroyed." 

Thorin's voice was tense and Bilbo thought that Thorin did, in fact, remember where the disaster had been.

"Did you rebuild?" 

Thorin chuckled, but somehow the sound was bitter. "I wanted to - they needed our money and jobs even more after the local infrastructure was wiped out, but my father said the company we were building for had pulled out, so we had to as well."

"Well, if the funding - "

"We were building a large hotel and resort. The locals were counting on us for construction jobs now, then hospitality jobs when the project was over. I wanted to go and look, see what could be done, you know, but my father refused." He sighed again. "I went anyway. When I got back, I had lots of ideas about how things could be done. It wouldn't be hard to finish the project, even if we had to make some changes."

"Dad wasn't having any of it. This wasn't the first time my father and I fought, but it was the first time my brother really picked a side. He wanted to finish the job. I don't think I've seen my dad that angry, before or since. He told my brother - Frerin - that if he chose to go out there and work 'in that stupid deathtrap', he shouldn't bother coming home."

Thorin's arms were wrapped tightly around Bilbo now and he wondered if Thorin even remembered he was holding Bilbo. 

"So Frerin went. But he never did come home. He died there, in an aftershock."

Bilbo let his head fall forward. "Oh, Thorin. I'm so sorry."

"He was just a kid," Thorin said, voice harsh. "He'd just graduated with his architecture degree - he was supposed to take over the business." He breathed deeply into Bilbo's hair. "Anyway, you're probably wondering what this has to do with Deathless."

Bilbo huffed. "I'd forgotten all about it, actually."

"Dis had already met Nagli. She's the youngest of us and we've always protected her, even when - especially when - she doesn't want us to. Frerin had Bofur and Bifur carve a set of toys for the kids she and Nagli were going to have. We figured they'd have about six or so. They both wanted big families. Frerin thought it would be funny to have a set of toys carved that looked like us, you know, so the kids would have toys of their family."

They were silent for a few minutes, watching the night sky. "The set wasn't finished before Frerin died, so Bifur and Bofur asked if we still wanted them, or if it would be too upsetting."

"Dis didn't, but I did. I kept the whole set for a few years, then somehow different parts of it ended up going home with family members. Dis has the ones who were meant to be her and Frerin and Nagli and Fili and Kili each have themselves."

Bilbo caught his breath. "So, who's Deathless?"

"I am."


	26. Twenty Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family holidays are always fraught with tension.

Twenty Six

Bilbo plunged through the crowd, holding his drink at shoulder level. He smiled and nodded at people as he pushed towards the kitchen, but didn't stop, no matter how much old aunty Rosa waggled her eyebrows at him. To his dismay, the kitchen wasn't safe either: his grand-uncles Ponto and Largo were holding their yearly "discussion" about the state of the world. Bilbo caught the words "bunker" and "ambush" and dived through the side door to the back yard.

There, at least, the noise was from happy children shouting as they chased each other around the gardens. Bilbo sighed and, with a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one had followed him outside, walked around the house. He picked his way through the pile of little kids who seemed to be playing something to do with dragons and castles, then ducked behind the garden shed.

"Ahhh," he sighed, slumping down onto the wide bench his father had put in two years ago. With a smile, he pulled out his phone.

_From: Thorin_  
To: Bilbo  
[1 image] 

_Hey, how's your day going? We've got more food than we can eat, but that's the point, isn't it?  
_

_To: Thorin  
From: Bilbo_

_Oh dear god, Thorin, I might have to run away and join the circus. I love my family, but this year is my parents' turn to host the whole family and there's nowhere to hide. My uncle Hildigrim keeps asking me when I'm going to settle down._

__

_To: Thorin_  
From: Bilbo  
[3 images] 

_I will say, though, I have missed my great-aunt Lily's potato salad, on the right there in the third picture. She's the only one who does it like that. I wish she'd give me the recipe._

__

Bilbo sat in the warm afternoon shade until he heard the children being called in for dinner. With a groan, he stood up and followed them inside. 

His mother beamed at him from where she stood, at the head of the table. She was nearly invisible behind the three turkeys they'd cooked that year. Two were roasted, he saw, but one had been deep fried. He caught his father's eye and glanced at the deep fried turkey. His father grinned at him and gave him a quick thumbs-up. Bilbo shook his head, smiling, then took a quick photo of his mom carving the first turkey.

He stepped back and texted the picture to Thorin with the caption, "My mom, destroying birds". 

"Bilbo, there you are." Two fingers pinched his elbow tightly and he turned, his false smile melting into a real one as he looked down into his grandmother's face.

"Gramma," he said, leaning down and giving her a hug. 'It's been ages, you're looking very good. How are you?"

She smiled up at him. "I'm fine dear, but I do wish you would talk to your father about the doctor." 

Bilbo glanced at his father, who was now standing next to Belladonna and handing out plates with slices of turkey to the family as they streamed past. Behind him, Bilbo saw people piling the turkey with the rest of the meal. His father looked thin, but not as tired as he had the last time Bilbo had come up.

"I don't know, Gramma. He looked worse a month ago, I think." He shrugged. "And you know mom'll make him do what he needs to."

Adamanta poked him in the ribs. "Get in line, young man. I need to get some of the thigh meat before the rest of the locusts get all of it." When they were closer to the head of the line, she turned back to him. "I hear you've been doing well."

He looked at her. "Uh, yes?" 

She smirked at his expression. "I hear there was a position with an important research company and that you got the job."

"Oh! Yes, I did. Lorien Institute. It's - they're in Berkeley and they're doing some really interesting things with - " He pulled himself up short. Their NDA had been strict, but even without that, his grandmother wasn't going to want the details of what he was doing in research.

"Good for you," she said. "And it's too bad about Lobelia. But, honestly, the fruit doesn't fall far from the tree and we all knew how Camellia was before your uncle married her." She held her plate out to Belladonna and said, brightly, "I'll take a whole thigh, if you please dear, with the skin on."

When she'd been helped - Bella had set a whole thigh aside for her when she carved the first turkey - Bilbo's mom looked at him and sighed. "Now dear," she brushed his hair back behind his ears. "You can't let this get to you. Lobelia is the way she always has been. It's nothing to do with you."

Bilbo looked down at his plate, filled with a thick slice of the breast meat with the skins from at both birds tucked under it. "I'm just tired of being in the middle of this."

She shrugged and served the next person in line. "You're not. _Lobelia_ is. You're just who she's targeting." She looked down the line. "We're nearly done here. I see your father's coming back for seconds."

"How's he doing? Gramma said something about him and the doctor, and you two were going to try someone new, right?"

Bella laughed at something the last person in line said, then smiled more gently at her husband. "I'll let him tell you," she said, taking her own plate with a whole leg on it from where she'd hidden it under a small tent of tin foil. "I'm off to see if I can't get some of the german potato salad before it's all gone."

Bungo kissed her cheek and smiled after her. "Now, what's all this?" He glanced at Bilbo, then used the serving fork to tweak two more slices of the fried turkey onto his plate.

Bilbo sighed. "Dad, it's about the doctor. You were going to try someone new?" He looked down at his own plate with its rapidly cooling turkey. "You look a little less peaked, but..."

"Ah." Bungo walked to the rest of the food and Bilbo tagged behind him, scooping servings of his favorites onto his plate as they went. "I saw him, the new doctor. He's got a funny little name, reminded me of one of the names you made up for your stories." He paused and looked around for a place to sit. "Over there - I see an empty spot. Come on before we lose it."

As they sat down on the couch, Bilbo's phone buzzed. 

"You can get that, and I can eat," Bungo said, already forking a bite up to his mouth. Bilbo snorted, but pulled his phone from his shirt pocket.

_To: Bilbo_  
From: Thorin  
[2 images] 

_It looks like there are about a million people there. How big is your family? And your mom's pretty. She looks familiar. It must be that she looks like you. We have all the cousins, and you'll never guess who else. I don't know what Gimli was thinking, but he brought that blond ponce from Greenwood Events.  
_

_To: Thorin  
From: Bilbo_

_Legolas? Gimli talks about him a lot when he's over with the kids. Did Tauriel come as well?  
_

_To: Bilbo  
From: Thorin_

_She did, and that's the only reason my dad didn't throw Legolas out. Kili threatened to leave with them if dad made them go, so ... they're staying. Is Lobelia there?  
_

_To: Thorin  
From: Bilbo_

_Yes, but I haven't seen her. That's not difficult - I haven't seen Frodo since we got here and he came with me! :D  
_

He set the phone aside and started eating. When he'd worked through half the plate, he turned to Bungo. "You said something about the new doctor having an odd name?"

"Right. Doctor Oin Grakung. Only, he said it like Grey King, which I thought was odd."

 _Wait. That's ..._ "I know a family with a name like that. Hang on?" At his father's nod, Bilbo reached for his phone again. 

_To: Thorin  
From: Bilbo_

_Hey, does Gloin have any relatives who are doctors?  
_

_To: Bilbo_  
From: Thorin  
[1 image] 

_There's Gloin, his brother Oin, and Gimli. Oin's a doctor, that ridiculous moustache notwithstanding.  
_

Wordlessly, Bilbo held the picture Thorin had sent to his father. Bungo took the phone and propped his reading glasses on his nose.

"That's him! How do you know him? Who're the other people?" Bungo looked at him over the top of his glasses. 

"Who're what other people?" Belladonna sat on the couch behind Bilbo and propped her chin on his shoulder. 

"He knows my doctor, the new one," Bungo said, holding Bilbo's phone out to her. She looked at the picture and smiled. 

"That's him." She took the phone and looked more closely. "I don't recognize anyone else here, though."

Bilbo pointed. "That's Gloin Grakung, bass guitarist of Erebor, and that's Gimli, his son. He's doing Mechanical Engineering and Metallurgy at Belegost. He's friends with Ori."

Belladonna had swiped to the next picture. "Who's this?" Bungo moved closer.

"That's..." Bilbo peered at the picture. "I think that's Kili, under the red hair somewhere. The redhead is Tauriel. I met her at the first concert, in the summer." Bella swiped again. "Oh, that's Thorin and Dwalin." Swipe. "Kili and Fili - they're his nephews." Swipe. "That's the turkey. Mom, give me back my phone."

Bella laughed and handed it back. "Anyway," she said, "this Dr Grakung thinks it might be something to do with Bungo's mushrooms. He suggested idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis, with an inhaled organic source."

Bilbo looked back and forth between them. " _And?_ "

"Well," his father said, "he's given me something to take and I've been wearing a mask - "

"It's great, he got one that looks like one of the World War II ones. It never fails to startle the little kids." Bella's voice was cheerful, but Bilbo could see the worry in her eyes.

"Hey, Uncle Bilbo, can I go upstairs?" Bilbo hadn't noticed Frodo walking up to them. 

"Sure, but - "

"Don't you walk away from me, young man." Lobelia shoved through a small clump of people and stopped when she saw that Frodo was talking to Bilbo and his parents. "I have some questions for you," she said.

Bilbo sighed. "Go on upstairs, you and whoever you're bringing up there. I'll handle this." Frodo nodded and darted to the stairs. 

"Why Lobelia," trilled Belladonna. "How interesting that you should want to talk to Frodo. I'm afraid that he's got something very important to do upstairs, but I'm sure the three of us can help you with anything you need."

Lobelia's face twisted. "I just wanted to find out when his parents are coming home. It's not right, him staying in the city with just Bilbo."

Bilbo started to say something, but Bungo was there first. "And why would that be true? He's very happy there, and his parents specified that he should stay with Bilbo. They wanted him to stay in the same school while they were away."

"And how long are they going to be gone? It doesn't seem like good parenting." She propped her hands on her hips and glared at Bilbo. 

Belladonna stood up. "It's been lovely having you for the holiday, Lobelia, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. There are containers on the kitchen counter, if you wish to take any of the food home for tomorrow."

Lobelia gaped at her. Two people pushed through the growing crowd and stood behind her. Bella raised her chin slightly; her smile thinned, but didn't fade. "Longo. Camellia. How nice of you to have come." 

After a tense pause, the three people moved toward the front door, gathering their jackets and bags. At the door, Lobelia turned back to Bilbo. "You'll regret this."

"Well," Belladonna said, voice filled with brisk cheer, "That's the traditional family argument. Now we can all have dessert." She spread her arms and shooed everyone back toward the kitchen. "Who wants to help me make whipped cream?" She grinned at the chorus of volunteers from the under-ten set and winked at Bilbo. "If I never come back, just know I died a happy death under a mountain of cream."

***

Bilbo and Frodo spent the rest of the weekend at Bilbo's parents' house. Bilbo spent a lot of his free time catching up on grading midterms and reading scientific journals. He'd set up a chair in the back yard, determined to enjoy what shreds of sun he could wring out of the thin winter days. 

At breakfast on Sunday, Bella sat next to him with a smile. "So, are we ever going to meet your new young man?"

Bilbo snorted. _That took longer than I expected._ "Sure. He's interested in meeting you as well. I think he's free - he's back from the tour now. I can ask him when would work for him?"

Bella nodded. "That sounds lovely. You know our schedules are flexible. It would be nice to see more of you as well." She scooped up her tea and looked past him out the wide kitchen window. "I'll be in the studio for the morning. You're leaving after lunch?"

***

In the car on the way home, Frodo leaned against the window as the traffic swept around them.

"Why is she like that?"

Bilbo almost didn't hear his question, his voice was so soft. He blinked and glanced away from the idiots cutting each other off in the fast lane. "What? Who, my mom?"

"No, _her_. Lobelia." Frodo's hands were tangled in his lap and he didn't turn to look at Bilbo.

"Ah." Bilbo sighed deeply. "I don't know. She's always been a bit bitter, but she seems to have gotten worse recently. I'm sorry she took it out on you. It's not you, you know, right?"

Frodo shrugged. "Sure, I guess. But why does she hate you so much, then?" He'd finally turned to face Bilbo. He looked as if he were near tears.

"I dunno, kiddo. I've always been her target, even when we were little. I think," he paused while he changed lanes. "I think it's something to do with her mother and my mother, honestly, but mom's never willing to discuss it with me." 

"Have you heard from my mom and dad recently?" Frodo's voice was tight.

"No. I'd have forwarded anything immediately. I send them emails all the time, but ..." Bilbo patted Frodo's arm. "They're out in the middle of no where, you know. It's not like in Star Trek or something. There isn't much of an internet connection out there."

"I know." Frodo looked out the window again. "I just wonder what they're doing."

"I miss them too, Frodo."

Frodo reached forward and turned the volume up on the radio; the sounds of one of Erebor's songs filled the car.


	27. Twenty Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin meets Bilbo's family!

Twenty Seven

_To: ProfBBaggins_  
From: Prim.Drogo  
[3 images]  
[1 attachment] 

_Dear Bilbo,_

_Well, it's been ages, but we've found not only a good internet connection, but reliable post. We're in Australia (Prim tells me to tell you the guys are as cute as they look in the movies and that you'd love the accents), and we'll be here for a couple of weeks. The Brandywine needs a bit of repair work - nothing major, don't fret - but since we'll be heading off into South East Asia and the Indian Ocean after this we don't want to take any risks._

_I've included a zip file of everything we've got saved up for you and Frodo, and we've posted a rather large box to you. All stuff we picked up on the trip. Frodo is so grown up in the pictures you sent - we got them all, all at once, and wow, he's gotten so much more adult. What's this about him and Sam, though? There's a girl? We'd thought he and Sam were a couple._

_Not that he'd tell us anything, Prim says. :D_

_Frodo said something in his emails about you having a boyfriend? Do tell! Is he cute? Where'd you meet him? Probably at one of your dry chemistry conferences, huh? Please tell me he reads something other than Ars Chemica._

_Drogo_

Bilbo clicked on the attachments to download them and sat back, smiling. "Dammit, guys," he muttered, "I've missed you."

_To: Prim.Drogo  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Gossiphounds,_

_Actually, I do have a new boyfriend. He's a bit older than me and we met through mutual acquaintances. He's got a degree in Mechanical Engineering, but he's doing more with sound processing and P2P communications now._

_You might have heard of him, though. His name is Thorin Durin._

_I'm sure you'll be hearing from Frodo in the next couple of seconds, so I'll let him tell you everything and then I'll fill in the pieces when he's done._

_I'm very glad to hear from you._

_Bilbo  
_

***

"Yes, mom, I'll ask him." Bilbo stirred the risotto. "No, no, I won't forget. He liked my lasagne, and he said he likes Italian food." He could hear Frodo laughing behind him. "It's just dinner, mom, don't ... " He sighed. "Saturday, yes, tea's at four, I know. I'll see you then. Love you, too." He hung up and dropped his phone on the counter, shaking his head.

"So, your mom's excited?" Frodo, Sam, and Rosie were sitting at the table, working on Frodo and Sam's biology project. 

Bilbo snorted and sat down at the table. "It's my mom. She wants to make everything perfect. And you know she loves to have people over." He rubbed his eyes. "At least we're past the first set of midterms." He stood and poured more stock into the risotto and stirred it slowly. 

Sam's phone buzzed. "Oh," he said after checking it. "My mom's home, I've got to go." The three kids stood and moved towards each other, then stopped, looking awkwardly to Bilbo, who sighed.

"Whatever you three have worked out between you is fine with me, kids. Just wear condoms, okay?" He pushed away from the stove and ostentatiously left the kitchen, making sure to tread heavily down the hall.

_Well, that answers that question. Sort of._

"It's okay, Uncle Bilbo," Frodo called, "you can come back now." 

Bilbo peeked around the kitchen doorway and saw Rosie, looking pink and embarrassed, at the table working diligently coloring in one of the cell diagrams on the boys' poster. Frodo was stirring the risotto; when he turned around, his face was similarly pink, but his eyes were defiant.

Bilbo lifted his hands. "If you've got the risotto in hand, then I'm going to get some work done, okay? The rest of the chicken stock's over there and it needs to be added every -"

"I've been watching you make risotto for nearly eight months now," Frodo said. "I've got this."

"Okay," Bilbo said, stepping away. Then he stopped and turned back. "Rosie?" He stuck his head around the door again. "You're staying for dinner, right? You and Frodo could make blondies after, if you like." 

"That sounds nice, thanks." Her cheeks pinked again, but her smile seemed less tense.

***

After dinner, he sent a quick email to Drogo and Prim about what he'd seen between Frodo and his friends, then finished the last of the final edits on the third novel in the Rohan series. 

_To: Nori@ConsortBooks  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Nori,_

_Here's_ Rohirrim _, all finished and polished. I got your email with the publication schedule for_ Eorlingas _, and I'm confused. I thought you didn't want me to go on a signing tour this time? I mean, I can try to find time, but I've got more going on now - and no, not just Thorin, get your mind out of the gutter._

_I forgot to tell you, I'm working with Lorien Institute, over in Berkeley. I'm pretty sure you'll have heard of their head researcher, Dr Galadriel Nenya. I think she's written a couple of good layperson level books on chemistry._

_Anyway, let me know how long a tour you want and I'll see how much I can shove my teaching schedule around._

_Bilbo  
_

Then, confident that he'd done as much work as he needed, he called Thorin. 

***

That Saturday, he felt much less confident as four o'clock came and went and Thorin hadn't arrived yet. At 4:15, his phone rang.

"What do you mean, 'it's impossible to miss'?" Thorin sounded frazzled. "I've been down every road in this tiny little town and Bag End isn't a place."

Bilbo snorted. "Where are you right now?"

"How should I know?" Thorin sighed, gustily, then said, his tone conciliatory. "I'm sorry, I just wanted your parents to -" 

"They're fine. Hobbiton can be confusing." Bilbo turned his back on his mother's suddenly amused expression. "Now, tell me exactly where you are and I'll give you directions."

"I, uh." There was a pause and some rustling sounds. "I'm at the corner of East Road and Bywater."

Bilbo smiled. "You're nearly here. Come up Bywater, and then when you see Bagshot Row, turn right. We're at the very end. You can't miss it." He smiled at Thorin's snort. "The door's bright green."

Bilbo sat on the bench on the walk near the front door, watching the cows wander the field across Bagshot Row. After less than five minutes, an old Dodge pickup pulled up in front of the house and stopped next to Bilbo's car. Bilbo watched Thorin run his hands through his hair, check his face in the mirror, then reach into the passenger footwell and pull out a bag. 

"Hey," he called, and Thorin's head snapped around. His expression shifted from frustrated to happy and Bilbo felt himself blush. _Dad'll tease me, I know it._

Thorin came up the walk, looking around at the gardens next to the path. "Wow. It's late in the year for this many flowers."

Bilbo shrugged. "My mom's got a green thumb. Dad's better at mushrooms." He rubbed his nose, suddenly feeling much more sympathetic to how Frodo, Sam, and Rosie must have felt in his kitchen when they'd been uncertain about whether it was okay to give each other hugs. Thorin didn't seem to have any worries, though; he stepped up to Bilbo and, after putting his bag down carefully, wrapped his arms around Bilbo.

"It's good to see you," he mumbled into Bilbo's hair. "I've missed you."

Bilbo leaned into him, feeling the knot of tension between his shoulder blades melt away. "Me, too." 

A cough from the door made Bilbo jump.

"So," said Belladonna. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Bilbo sighed. "Mom, this is Thorin Durin. Thorin, this is my mother, Belladonna. And," Bilbo paused, "yes, that's my dad, Bungo, hiding behind her."

"Come in," Bella said brightly. "Come in and have a cup of tea. It's so nice to meet more of Bilbo's friends." 

With a glance at Bilbo, Thorin picked up his bag and followed Bella into the house. 

"He's quite nice looking," Bungo said as Bilbo trailed after them. "She'll be adding a character into the toad and peach books, I think."

"Oh god, really?" Bilbo stood in the entry hall and watched Thorin and Bella. She'd brought him into the parlor where he handed her a basket from his bag and smiled at her pleased expression. 

Bungo touched him on the shoulder. "He seems better than Smeagol already." Bilbo turned to him and was startled by how serious he looked. "I was worried, for a while, that you'd never come back out of your shell after how badly he treated you. It looks like I won't have to worry anymore." He gave Bilbo a quick hug, then joined Bella and Thorin in the parlor. 

"Look, Bilbo," Bella called, "it's got little paint pots in." She set the basket down on a side table and took out a set of watercolors. "Oh, these are very nice," she continued, "and this sketchbook's lovely." 

Bilbo watched Thorin's face. His lips were pressed tightly together, but when he caught Bilbo's eyes, he smiled. 

Bella glanced at them. "Oh, I mean it, Thorin, may I call you Thorin? You must call me Bella, everyone does." At his nod, she laughed. "I work in acrylics, but I do my preliminary sketches and all of my non-illustration work in watercolors. I've been busy recently, so having new paints will be a good reminder to take time for my own art." She hugged him enthusiastically. "Thank you very much."

"You're welcome," he said, and Bilbo could hear relief in his voice.

"Now, I'll just go get the tea things and you boys can sit down and start getting to know each other." She shoved Thorin gently towards a small couch and nodded at Bilbo. 

Bungo sat down in his comfortable wing chair. "Go on, lad, have a seat." Thorin pulled something else from his bag and handed it to Bungo as he sat down. 

"Bilbo said you are a mycologist, so I thought you might like this," he said.

Bungo cocked an eyebrow at Bilbo, who shrugged, then looked at the book Thorin had handed him. "Oh," he said. "... thank you." He paged through the book, stopping a couple of times, then smiled across at Thorin. "Really, thank you. This will be fun to look through." 

Just then, Bella came through the door from the kitchen, pushing a rolling cart with a full tea set and several trays of pastries. "Look what Thorin just gave me," Bungo said. "It's a book of medieval mushroom illustrations." 

She stood behind him and smiled as he showed her the pages he'd stopped on. "That's perfect," she said. "That's the one you were working on this morning, isn't it?"

Bungo nodded, and Bilbo felt Thorin slump slightly. _He put a lot of work into finding just the right gifts. He could have just asked me..._

"Do you take milk in your tea?" Bella sat ready to pour a cup for Thorin, who jumped slightly then smiled. 

"Milk and sugar, I'm afraid," he said. 

Her hand hovered over the assortment of pastries and cookies and he shrugged. "I'm easy to please, really."

"He likes linzer cookies," Bilbo said, standing to fill a plate for his father, then one for himself. "And snickerdoodles." 

"Oh good," Bella said, "you'll fit right in." She finished filling his plate and handed it to him. "Now, Bilbo says you just came home from being on tour. How long are you typically away?"

Thorin set his teacup on the table next to his side of the couch. "Tours can last from a few days to a few months, but we're not planning on another one for at least a year. I - we want to work on a new album and I've got to have some time to write for that to happen."

"Will Fili be helping?" Bilbo asked. Thorin smiled at him.

"I expect so. He wrote at least half the songs on the current album. We've been thinking about trying to write for other artists as well. Well," Thorin paused and took another sip of tea. "I've been thinking about it. Fili's been doing it for a few years now. He's got a good line in country and western songs."

Bungo chuckled. "He likes trucks?"

Thorin grinned at him. "Yes, actually, ever since he was little. His favorite stuffed toy was a truck."

"He's your nephew, right?" Bella had pulled her knitting out and was trying to brush cookie crumbs out of the yarn. 

"My sister's boys, yes." Thorin smiled down at his hands. "I've never had kids of my own, but I was very involved with them. They were hellions as kids."

Bella caught Bilbo's eye and smirked. "Oh, I've no idea what that might be like."

"Frodo's very easy, I'll have you know," Bilbo said, deliberately pretending to misunderstand. 

"Oh right," Bungo said, leaning forward. "You said there was something up with him and Sam and that girl? What's going on?"

Bilbo ran a hand down the back of his neck. "I think they've worked something out between the three of them. I don't know what, exactly, but Frodo's not being such a pill about things and they seem to be pretty well connected at all of their hips, so..." He sighed. "I just hope they don't run into trouble for it at school."

Bella stared at him. "Wait, you think ... the three of them? Together?" At his nod, she huffed and shook her head. "I guess that's one way to deal with it, but Frodo's never shown any sign of being interested in girls at all."

"Ah," Bilbo said, feeling slightly out of his depth, "I don't know what they're doing. I just know that they seem to have agreed to something between the three of them. And that they're uncomfortable about hugging each other in front of me."

Thorin chuckled. "You're a scientist and that's all you can prove?"

Bilbo grinned. "It's all I've direct evidence of, at the very least."

"Well," Bella said, standing up. "Dinner's about ready, so why don't you two," she pointed at Thorin and Bungo, "go see that everything's ready in the dining room and Bilbo and I will put the last touches on the meal."

In the kitchen, she pulled a roast duck from the oven and set it on the counter to rest. "Can you pull the drippings from that, please dear, and finish the sauce?" 

Bilbo nodded and got to work. Behind him, Bella opened her second oven and took out rolls and potatoes. 

"I've steamed carrots and fresh salad, as well," she said. Then she stopped bustling about the kitchen and turned to him. "He seems very nice," she said. "It's clear he cares very deeply about you." 

Bilbo blinked at her. "How can you tell?"

She smiled at him, and he wondered why she looked slightly sad. "Oh, dear heart, I can just tell. I'm glad you've found someone who'll take care of you." She patted him on the arm. "Now hurry up and finish whisking that together, I'm hungry."

At the table, after everyone was served, Thorin turned to Bilbo. "So," he said, "I had an interesting conversation at Thanksgiving. Why didn't you tell me you're Bandobras Took?"


	28. Twenty Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin asks difficult questions.

Twenty Eight 

Bilbo choked. "I.. what?" 

"Who?" Bella said, across the table from Thorin. "Bandobras is my great grand uncle." She smiled calmly and cut a piece of duck. "I'm Belladonna Took on my father's side."

Bilbo swallowed heavily. "I, erm – " _Oh shit. Now what?_

Thorin took a bite of food. "Your great grand uncle? But …" He glanced at Bilbo, who couldn't read anything in his expression, then back to Bilbo's mother. "Are you – there is a Belladonna Took who writes and illustrates children's books."

Bella winked at him. "You found me out. I was thinking of asking you, in fact, if you'd be willing to sit for me. To paint, I mean." At his blank stare, she laughed. "Oh, nothing risqué. Just, I was thinking of adding some characters to my stories and you'd make a very attractive raven."

Across the table from Bilbo, Bungo caught Bilbo's eye, then coughed to try to cover his laughter. Bilbo stared at him, then down at his plate. There was no way he could eat anything now.

"I, ah," he said, trying not to let his voice shake. "Thanks, mom, but I can deal with this." He pulled in a deep breath and turned to Thorin, folding his hands tightly in his lap. "I am Bandobras Took. Or," he shrugged slightly. "I'm writing as him, anyway."

Thorin set his utensils down. His expression, which had been light and interested, was now fading to a blank, closed off look. "I …" He glanced at Bungo, whose coughing had continued. "I'm afraid I don't understand. You're clearly not Bella's great grand uncle."

Bilbo smiled, helplessly; Bungo snorted into his napkin, then wheezed in a breath. "No," he squeezed out between thin breaths. "He's much better looking than the old coot ever was."

Bella had come around to his side of the table and was rubbing his upper back gently, but now she leaned away from him and said, "Oh, I don't know. I've seen pictures of old Bandobras when he was younger. He wasn't a bad looking man."

Bilbo sighed. "We're getting away from the point. Thorin," he looked again, but Thorin was looking at Bella and Bungo. "I used my great great grand uncle's name when I started writing. I wasn't sure if the books would be popular and I didn't want to use my own name – I have to write papers with – "

"Ah, of course." Thorin smiled slightly and picked his fork back up. "That was the one thing we couldn't quite figure out. Kili thought you must have a whole secret identity – a second life, but that didn't make any sense. I mean, you're always at school, when would you have the time?" 

Bilbo huffed a laugh. "I barely have the time for the life I have already. I guess I could give up sleeping, but it's a pretty high sacrifice." He picked up his own utensils and started eating. 

"It's not worth it," Thorin said. "Sleep is very important." He ate a few more bites and looked at Bella, who'd sat back down in her own chair. "This duck is excellent, the sauce is very nice."

Bella smiled at him. "Bilbo made that," she said.

Thorin glanced at him, a flash of vivid blue eyes. "What I don't understand, really, is why you never told me?" His voice held just a slight edge.

Bilbo stopped pushing his food around his plate. "Well, yes. I didn't say at first because I didn't think we'd end up staying in touch, you know? I mean, you're a rock and roll star and…" He rubbed his nose. "Well, and I'm a university professor who can't keep track of his phone. So, when I saw you there, holding the book – _my_ book – I just thought it was a great chance to find out what someone really thought of it."

Thorin watched him; he'd pushed his plate a little away from himself and had propped his chin on his hand. 

Bilbo sighed. "Most of the time, when I meet people who're reading my book, they know they're talking to the author, so they're always complimentary. 'I love the way you write conversations, where _do_ you find your ideas?' – that sort of thing. It's hard to tell what's sincere and what's …" 

"Shining you on?" Thorin said; his voice low and slightly amused. 

Bilbo felt his shoulders relax slightly. _At least he doesn't sound furious._ "Exactly. I mean, my mom and dad have always said they liked my writing, but they're my parents, they _have_ to say that."

"You keep telling yourself that, kid," Bungo muttered and Bella laughed. She glanced around the table. 

"Oh Bilbo," she said. "You've barely eaten anything. Finish up what's on your plate and I'll get out dessert." She turned to Thorin. "I've made apple sharlotka, but I haven't whipped the cream yet."

Bilbo hurried through the food on his plate, listening to Thorin talking lightly to his parents about food and cooking. They'd just agreed that wintertime was best for denser cakes when Bilbo stood up, carrying his plate. 

"I'll clear up," he said, tugging gently on Thorin's plate, then gathering his parents' plates. "You go on talking." Leaving the lights off in the kitchen, he set the plates in the sink and leaned heavily on the edge of the sink. "Crap," he whispered. "Why didn't you just tell him, you idiot?"

There was a sound in the doorway behind him and he turned. Thorin stepped into the kitchen. "Why didn't you? And you're not, you know." 

The moon through window over the sink lit Thorin's body, but his face remained in shadow. Bilbo crossed his arms. "It never seemed like the right time. I mean," he spread his hands out. "At first, we were just talking about books a bit, it wasn't as if I was ever going to see you again, and then … then we were still talking, and then you took me to that amazing restaurant and…" He ran his fingers through his hair. "And then the longer I didn't say, the harder it was _to_ say. I mean, how does one go about introducing that subject?"

Bilbo huffed into the silence. "I could have just told you when the next book's coming out and asked if you wanted an ARC, I guess, or maybe I could have asked if you want to see the third one –"

"Have you finished it?" Thorin's voice was eager and he stepped closer. Bilbo could see his jaw now, and his mouth. It smiled and he slumped, feeling relieved. _At least he still wants to read the books._

"Oh yes. I've just finished editing it. The edits took forever. I thought Nori would have kittens."

"Nori! How does he know about your books?" Thorin sounded startled.

Bilbo blinked, then laughed. "He's my editor and agent. I thought … isn't he how you know?"

Thorin stepped into the moonlight. "No, Gimli told me. Or," he paused, head tilted to one side. "He said something that made me think about it and then it was obvious." 

Bilbo shook his head. "He saw the ARC for _Eorlingas_ the first day he visited, but I thought he'd forgotten."

Thorin's smile flashed. "He had. We were talking about – well. We were all talking and someone mentioned horses, and then I said something about Took's book … I mean, _your_ book, that the new one is coming out soon." He moved closer to Bilbo; his hands were tucked into his pockets and he shifted slightly so he wasn't quite facing him. 

"Anyway, Gimli said that he'd seen a copy of the new one at your house. And that made me think. And then it seemed obvious." He closed the last of the distance between himself and Bilbo. Bilbo leaned back a little to look up into his face. Thorin reached out slowly, sliding his hands carefully along Bilbo's sides and around to rest on the edge of the sink behind him. With a smile, he leaned down and whispered, "So, _can_ I read the new one before it comes out?"

Bilbo snorted and wrapped his own arms around Thorin's waist. "You're not mad that I didn't tell you?"

Thorin buried his nose in the side of Bilbo's neck. "No," he said into the skin there. "Of course not. I figured it was something like this. I just wanted to know if it was really you."

Bilbo dug his chin into Thorin's shoulder. "You couldn't have found a better time to ask?"

Thorin stiffened. "Uh, maybe?"

Bilbo slumped back, letting Thorin and the sink take his weight. "Only I just missed my mother's roast duck because I was worried you were angry at me."

Thorin pulled away, looking a bit guilty. "I'm sorry. I didn't even think. I just remembered that I wanted to ask and, uh, did. I guess that explains why you got all tense and unhappy looking."

"If you two are _quite done_ ," came Bella's voice from the door, "I'll get started on the cream." She flicked on the light and bustled past them. "It's long past time for apple cake." She smiled at them as she pulled ingredients from the fridge. "Go on into the parlor. I'll be along in a few minutes. Bungo's waiting."

Two hours of conversation and cake later, Bilbo stood waving as Thorin pulled out of the drive.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Bella asked as Bilbo gathered his things.

"No, I've got to get back. I've work to do and I don't want to leave the kids alone all weekend. Who _knows_ what they'll get up to." Bungo gave him a big hug and Bella handed him a bag filled with containers of leftovers. 

"I like him," Bungo said, slipping an arm around Bella's waist as Bilbo climbed into his car. 

"So do I," Bella said, leaning through the car window to kiss Bilbo on the cheek. "You found a good one this time."

He smiled up at them. "I hope so. I like him an awful lot."

Once he turned onto Bywater, he called Thorin. "So, uh," he said, suddenly less sure of himself.

Thorin's voice came from his car speakers, surrounding him, making him shiver. "Yes? I am entirely at your service."

Bilbo felt his chest tighten. "Ah, I was just wondering if you wanted to come to my house. I could give you the ARC for _Eorlingas_?"

"I would love to." Thorin sounded warm. He chuckled and Bilbo bit his lip. "Is this just for the book, or…" He suddenly sounded less sure of himself. 

Bilbo laughed. "I think I'll take door number two, if you'd like. I make a mean Sunday breakfast. Perhaps you'd like to sample it?"

"Mmmm, that depends." Bilbo could hear Thorin's smile. "I'm a simple enough man. Bacon, eggs, and potatoes are good enough."

"I'll see what I can do. I'll meet you at home – I mean, my house?"

"I'll be there."

Bilbo spent the rest of the drive home singing along to the radio.

***

Sunday morning, Bilbo woke up with a heavy warm arm pinning him to the bed. He smiled to himself and snuggled down, tucking his nose into Thorin's elbow. 

Thorin grumbled behind him and tightened his grip. "Not time to get up yet. Stop wiggling."

Bilbo grinned. "I thought you wanted breakfast."

"I'll get to it later," Thorin said, then deliberately threw a leg over Bilbo's legs. "Right now, I'm busy." He pulled Bilbo closer, making him huff out a startled breath. When Thorin tucked his hips against Bilbo's and stroked a hand down Bilbo's chest to his upper thigh, Bilbo put off all thoughts of breakfast. 

Some time later, Bilbo slid out of bed. Thorin lay sprawled on the bed, tangled in the covers, his hair spread wantonly across the pillows. He turned to Bilbo and smiled. "Good morning," he rumbled. 

_Oh dear god, what a thing to see in my bed of a morning._ "Good morning," Bilbo said. "I'll bring you a cloth, then wash up myself and go start cooking? I'm surprised the kids haven't howled my door down for breakfast."

Thorin sat up. "I'll come clean up with you." He stood, then looked around. "I guess I'll put my shirt back on."

"Ah, no, wait." Bilbo took a breath. "I've got an extra robe – an old one. You can have that." He smiled up at Thorin and walked to the closet. _I guess it's a good thing I never tossed this out._ "It'll be a bit short on you, I think, but it'll cover the important bits. Oh, and I'm sorry about the color." He pulled out the robe and looked at it critically. "I should have got rid of it ages ago."

Thorin shrugged. "Yellow's fine. I'd have worried if it were violently floral, though. I'm not sure flowers really go with my hair."

Bilbo grinned. _Well, maybe I should look on Amazon for Hawaiian print robes._ "You don't like flowers? I think they'd look lovely on you."

After they showered, Bilbo stopped into his office to get the ARC for Thorin. Thorin surprised him by stopping at the doorway instead of following him into the room. 

"Is this where the magic happens?" Thorin said, leaning on the door jamb. He'd put his clothes back on; Bilbo already missed the view of his chest peeking out of the folds of the robe. 

Bilbo snorted. "If you want to call it that. Here," he rummaged around and pulled out the thick book. " _Eorlingas_ , just for you." When he turned, Thorin had come in and was looking at the over-stacked bookshelves. "What?"

"You need more shelves." Thorin touched his finger gently to the nose of the lung dragon statuette and Bilbo smiled at the memory of Gimli doing the same thing. "Although," Thorin said as he turned to look at the rest of the room, "I don't know where you'd put them."

Bilbo laughed, shoved the book into Thorin's hands, and led the way to the kitchen. "I've always wanted a library, but I haven't the extra space." He started pulling things out of the fridge, then glanced at Thorin. "Coffee to start?"

Thorin jumped guiltily. He'd opened the book and had started reading. "Uh, yes please?" His fingers wrapped around the corners of the book. "Do you need any help?"

Bilbo laughed again. "No, but thanks for offering. Go on, I'll find you in the living room when breakfast is ready." 

Thorin shifted on his feet and his eyes strayed back down to the book cover. "You're sure?" At Bilbo's amused nod, he wandered off, the book already open again.

Bilbo filled and turned on the kettle, set the coffee grinder, and turned to the stove. 

"Frodo?" Rosie's voice was a whisper. "Is that Thorin Durin in the living room?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apple Sharlotka is a wonderful way to have apple cake. [Apple Sharlotka](http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2012/01/apple-sharlotka/) (And, by the way, that cooking website is excellent. Try their [brownies](http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2012/08/my-favorite-brownies/).)
> 
> Yay, food!


	29. Twenty Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Holiday confusion abounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo lives at 17 Riviera Ct, Oakland, CA and Thorin lives at 24 St Bernard Ln, Belvedere, CA, if you want visual references.

Thorin left after breakfast, and Bilbo left Frodo and Sam at the table with a still-stunned Rosie. She'd been mostly silent during the meal, a change from her usual excitable chatter, and it was clear to Bilbo that she needed a few quiet minutes. _With her companions, I guess I could call them._ Bilbo thought. _I wonder what names they use. I should ask._

He sat down in his office and smiled at the lung dragon, who seemed to be basking in his popularity. Then Bilbo's eye fell on the spot where _Eorlingas_ had been and he chuckled. Thorin had barely let go of the book to come to breakfast. Then Bilbo turned to his computer and sank into the difficulty of finishing up the final exams. 

Two hours later, he surfaced to the buzzing of his phone. 

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_Hey, stay home today, okay? I think something's up.  
_

Bilbo stared at his phone. _What?_ He checked the timestamp; Thorin had just texted.

He thought for a second, then checked the main news sites online. Nothing. There had been a small skirmish in Croatia, and maybe there was something about a storm in the Indian Ocean, but it looked small, so he didn't think it was what Thorin was worried about. 

Shaking his head, he dropped his phone into his shirt pocket and wandered into the kitchen. It was definitely time for coffee. After making a cup of coffee, he stood in the living room and looked out the window. There wasn't a cloud of smoke rising anywhere he could see, so he shrugged and went out back. He hadn't had time to do anything in the garden in at least two weeks, not that there was much for him to do. Sam's dad took care of both of their yards – he'd said it was as thanks for Bilbo taking Sam so much of the time. 

Bilbo worked for a little while, dumping out the ends of the summer's tomatoes and cucumbers and shaking their earth into the large barrel he kept for recycling dirt. When he found himself humming the song Thorin had sung about the misty mountains, he stopped and smiled. 

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_There's been something in the gossip news about me. I think they're still looking for you. Are there pictures of you on the school website?  
_

Bilbo's brows drew together. _Pictures? Maybe…_ He turned to go inside and check, when someone coughed. 

Hamfast stood leaning over the top of the fence which nominally separated their back yards. "Ah, Professer?"

"Bilbo, please, Hamfast." Bilbo smiled up at him. "Really, we've known each other for how long?"

Hamfast gave him a tight smile. "I was wanting to talk to you, about the kids."

Bilbo stiffened. "Yes? Is something wrong? I hope that spending time with Frodo hasn't made Sam fall behind. I'd be happy to tutor him, if that's the case."

Hamfast ran a hand down the back of his head. "Naw, nothing like that. Only, there's something … and the missus and I wanted to talk to you. Private like, without them about."

"Shall I come over? I think the three of them are in Frodo's room. I remember hearing about a project for their Biology class."

Hamfast glanced in the direction of Frodo's room. "Bell's just got some seed cake finished."

Bilbo smiled. "With that as temptation, nothing could keep me from coming over." He eyed the fence. "I don't think I can make it the way Sam does, though. I'll come over the hill." 

He climbed the back steps to the little bit of county owned wilderness his house backed up to, fought his way through the low bushes past the fence, then clambered down into Hamfast's yard. 

"Well," he said, looking around. "I see you've already done the winter clean up. I'm behind on mine." 

Hamfast turned from where he'd been leading the way through the sliding glass doors into his kitchen. "I'll do that, you don't need to worrit about it."

Bilbo wiped his feet on the mat and stepped into the house, sliding the door closed behind him. "Oh, don't – I mean, I like to do something myself, you know. My dad would be horrified if he thought I couldn't even grow my own tomatoes."

Bell laughed. She'd been at the stove holding a large steaming kettle and she turned to him. "I'll tell him," she said, "the next time I’m up there to visit my sister." She filled the teapot at her elbow and set the kettle back down. "Now, you're staying for tea and cakes, right?"

"I wouldn't miss your seed cake for the world, Bell." Bilbo smiled as he sat down.

After a few minutes which Bell filled with bustle and cake cutting, Bilbo pushed his plate back and said, "I've been meaning to ask if Sam's spending too much time at my house and skipping out on his responsibilities here at home."

Bell flicked a glance at her husband, who was staring firmly at the last bite of cake on his plate. "Oh, nothing like that. Nothing at all. And you know Frodo's here nearly as often, and what a nice boy he is. I can't imagine leaving him to go on a world cruise." She propped her chin in a hand and stared through the window. "Although, the pictures Frodo shows me of where his parents have been are very pretty. All that water."

"It's that they're always together. And, then there's this girl now, and I dunno if …" Hamfast's lips pressed together. 

_Ah. Here it is._ Bilbo sighed. "Rosie? She's very sweet. Hasn't Sam had her over here? I was sure Frodo said something about it."

Bell nodded. "Aye, she's been. She seems very nice, and very bright. She and Sam were up late working on something in math class. But, well. We're just worried that the boys'll … you know, that they'll fight."

Bilbo licked his lips. _Now how do I go about this?_ "I'm sure that Frodo and Sam are level headed enough not to let anyone come between them." After a fleeting pause in which he realized that this might not have been the best phrase to use, given what he thought was going on with the three kids, he pressed on. "I mean, there was a bit of tension when she first moved here, but they seem to have – well, worked that out. Or, has Sam said something else, here at home?"

"Nooo," Bell said, "but Mari said that she's seen Frodo kissing Rosie and Sam kissing her as well, and – "

"And it just ain't right," Hamfast burst out. "I won't have her setting the boys against each other, not when they're such good friends."

Bilbo's eyes widened and he blinked a couple of times. He caught an exasperated expression as it flashed over Bell's face. _Ah. She knows what's going on, but he hasn't caught on yet._

"Well," Bilbo said. "Well." He breathed deeply. "I think they're well old enough to be figuring this out for themselves, what, they're sixteen?" He grinned. "They already know everything – or hasn't Sam told you that yet?"

Hamfast snorted into laughter. "Aye, he has, the rascal. I was setting the fruit trees by the kitchen wall for the winter, for warmth, you know, and he told me that we're in a temperate zone and that I was wasting my time." He cut another slice of cake for himself and took a bite. "So, his lemon tree's staying out in the center of the yard and if it stunts, he's only himself to blame."

Bell slid another slice of cake onto Bilbo's plate, then one onto her own. "We just wanted to know if you thought things were going okay with the boys, really. Sam does so much around the house and poor Frodo, with his parents gone like this."

Bilbo nodded. "I wasn't kidding – I had meant to check in with you two about Sam. I know he's over a lot."

Half an hour of casual chatter about the upcoming holiday later, Bilbo clambered back over the hill to his own back yard. Once in his own kitchen, he made another cup of coffee. "Well," he muttered. "That wasn't what I was expecting."

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_Well? Are there? I tried to find any, but your damned website's too confusing. At least we know that there aren't any pictures of you as Bandobras Took out there.  
_

Bilbo huffed and went into his office to check the website. After a few minutes, he shook his head. 

_From: Bilbo  
To: Thorin_

_There are a couple, but they're small. What's going on?  
_

After a moment's thought, Bilbo went down the hall. "Hey, kids," he called, knocking on the door. Frodo pulled it open, revealing Sam on the bed holding his laptop and Rosie sitting on the floor with her own laptop.

"Yeah, what?" Frodo leaned on the door jamb, arms crossed. 

"I was wondering if you'd heard – "

"Yes," Frodo snapped. "We heard. Only, then you guys went to Sam's dad's house."

Bilbo's eyebrows rose. "I was going to ask if you guys had heard anything online about Thorin. Because he's been texting me – he seems to think some of the gossip journalists might have tracked me back to the college."

Frodo's shoulders dropped. "Uh, no?" He turned to Rosie. "Have we?"

Sam snorted. "I'll check, hold on." 

Rosie was still looking up at Bilbo. "What did Sam's dad say?" Her voice was very small.

Bilbo smiled. "They're just worried that the three of you will end up not being friends."

"That's not what it sounded like," Frodo said, still looking a bit angry.

"I promise, kiddo. And, you have to admit, it's not what they were expecting."

"Not what I was expecting either," Sam muttered. He looked over at Bilbo. "But yeah, Thorin's right. There's an article on Azog's site – Gundabad – about Thorin's 'new boytoy', and some of the Orc Horde seem to have figured out that you're not from Baltimore. I can't find anything specific, though."

"Azog? What kind of a name's that?"

Sam and Rosie rolled their eyes. "He runs this absolutely awful sleaze tv show. Once a week he trashes some poor celebrity or fan. He seems to have it in for Thorin, though." 

Rosie glanced at Bilbo. "You really don't want him to know about you. He's a killer."

"What? Like, he's killed people? How does – " Bilbo stared at her.

Frodo was aghast. "What do you mean – and he wants to know about Uncle Bilbo?"

Sam sighed. "No. He's not a murderer, although his fans – they call themselves the Orc Horde – and they're rabid. They're like … I dunno, Anonymous, only just for Azog."

Bilbo felt a chill run down his back. "Yeah, I can see why people wouldn't want to have him know about them. I wonder if I should talk to the Dean about this."

***

The next week was increasingly tense. Everyone on campus was irritable; no one enjoyed finals season. Beorn seemed the least unhappy about it, but Bilbo heard him telling Shelob that they'd soon be able to spend a few days hiding at 'the old house'. 

Bilbo went home every night with a stack of tests to grade. On Thursday, after his last final of the quarter, he dragged Ori with him.

They sat at the kitchen table, the shredded remains of take-out Chinese on the counter, grimly going through the tests. 

"What was the secondary answer you were willing to take for the Inorganic question about plasma?" Ori sounded very tired.

Bilbo leaned back and rubbed his eyes. "I don't remember. I don’t care." He stood and started organizing the stacks. "This one's the Organic, right, and those are … the seminar kids. Okay, and your elbow's on Inorganic, so …" he glanced over the now neatened stacks. "I think we can call it a night. I can do the rest tomorrow morning and you can get home. You've done a ton of work."

Ori smiled at him, tried to stand and staggered over his own feet. "Oh," he said. "I think I need more coffee."

Bilbo shook his head. "Nope. How about you stay the night. The couch in my office pulls out and I'll make you a huge breakfast tomorrow."

Ori blinked blearily up at him. "I don't have a toothbrush."

"I've spares. Come on, bed for all of us." He pulled Ori to his feet and sent him down the hall, stopping on the way to get the sheets and blankets for the pull out bed. "Oh right," he said to himself, turning back halfway down the hallway, "and a toothbrush. I hope he doesn't mind orange."

The next morning, Bilbo set about making the first full big breakfast of the holiday. He missed his mother's breakfasts and knew he was hurrying through the grading to get to his parents' house as early as possible. _I wonder what Thorin's doing for Christmas._

His phone buzzed.

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_Looks like it'll blow over. I'll keep an eye out, though. So, my sister's insisting on meeting you. Would you like to come over sometime before Christmas?  
_


	30. Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Media attention isn't what Bilbo's used to at all.

"Would Frodo like to bring his friend, um. Sam, right?" Thorin and Bilbo were at Bilbo's favorite Indian restaurant, sitting at a table near the back. The waitress had blinked several times after seating them, and Bilbo rather thought the food came out faster than usual, but Thorin didn't seem to notice anything.

Bilbo stirred his raita. "Sure, that's a good idea. That way he won't be the only kid there."

Thorin laughed. "Oh, Bombur's bringing his mob, and Gimli and Fili and Kili will be there." He scooped up some rogan josh onto his naan and shoved a bite into his mouth. "Mmph," he grunted, "maybe that's not quite right. Fili and the rest are a bit older than your bunch, and Bombur's are younger. Well," he grinned, his teeth white in the dim light, "at least that way we'll have a complete set. Hey," he sat up straighter. "Do you think the others would want to come? The other two who were at the show?"

Bilbo choked on his own bite of naan. "Pippin and Merry? Uh, I .. maybe? I can ask Frodo. They'd love to see Gimli."

Thorin chuckled and pulled out his phone. "Let me text Gloin. He's been whining about getting back into gaming ever since he met you at the show. Maybe we could set something up."

*** 

Bilbo leaned back in the chair and looked out of Nori's big office windows. "So, there it is, the outline for the last two books in that series. What do you think?"

Nori uncrossed his legs and smiled. "I think it sounds great. Having the little short people end up being so important is really good – different, you know?" He walked to his desk. "I've been meaning to tell you, the third book's at the printers. Do you want to do a tour for the second one? It's out in a week." 

"Oh, like I don't know exactly when the book's coming out." Bilbo folded his hands over his belly. "I'm not sure about a tour. Winter break isn't that long and I've a couple of things happening here that I can't really leave for long."

"Is that what you're calling him?"

Bilbo snorted. "No, I mean work things. I _do_ work other than writing for you, you know." He followed Nori to the desk and leaned a hip on it. "I just can't see where I've got time right now."

Nori nodded. "What about a couple of local signings?" Bilbo nodded, and Nori continued, with a smile. "How _is_ your personal life, anyway?"

Bilbo crossed his arms. "Fine, thank you." At Nori's short laugh, he relaxed and grinned. "It's going well, I think. He's invited us to a big pre-Christmas family dinner at his house in a week or so. My mom liked him."

Nori raised his eyebrows. "You've invited him home already? That's a bit fast, isn't it?"

"Well, we've been talking since the summer, so…" Bilbo shrugged. "I don't think so? I mean, we haven't seen a lot of each other in person, sure, but we talk all the time."

Nori nodded. "That makes sense. As long as you know what you're getting into."

Bilbo snorted. "I'm getting into a relationship with a good looking man who plays guitar. What else is there?"

Nori sat silent for a moment, then said, "So, I saw your name flashing across the twitterverse the other day."

Bilbo blinked. "The what?"

Nori rolled his eyes. "You have _got_ to get into the current decade. There's this computer program, right, with a little bird?"

Bilbo laughed. "Yes, I know what Twitter is, I just don't know why my name would be there."

Nori looked at him for a moment. "You're dating Thorin _Oakenshield_ , you know. The man's had ten relationships in the past ten years. Everyone who's watching wants to know how long you'll last."

Bilbo stood up slowly, feeling something cold settle between his shoulder blades. "Who's watching?"

"Well, you've been mentioned on TMZ, the Orc Horde's posted pictures of you – recent ones, it looks like – want to see? – and there was that little flutter of interest, what, a month ago? In Baltimore?" Nori swiveled in his chair and started tapping on his keyboard.

The computer screen on the corner of his desk flickered. After a couple of seconds, a page loaded; the background image looked like a nightmare image of zombie vikings. It was overlaid by a white screen with blog posts on it, each drawn as if it were a comic-book text balloon coming from the mouth of a huge, bald, pale man with a scar running down the side of his face. 

"JUSTIN BIEBER CAUGHT WITH MALE HOOKERS!!!" read one headline. "GWYNETH BUYS STRIP CLUB, PLANS TO HEADLINE SHOWS!!!" screamed another. Nori scrolled down and Bilbo caught his breath as one of the pictures of him from Baltimore popped up underneath, "THORIN OAKENDICK'S INTO OLDER MEN NOW?"

Nori glanced up at him. "You haven't seen this?"

Bilbo coughed. "Ah. No. No I have not." He paused, thinking about Sam's expression when he'd asked if there was any news. "Sam – Frodo's friend … boyfriend, I don't know. Anyway, he looked, but he said there wasn't anything."

Nori clicked on the headline. The next page opened, with the bald man's image above three pictures of Bilbo – all recent and taken on campus. There were also photographs of a young blonde woman curled up in Thorin's arms, and a tall slender dark-haired man standing in front of Thorin with Thorin's arms wound around his chest and his chin hooked over the stranger's shoulder – the young man was laughing at the camera but Thorin's eyes were dark and brooding. 

The text read: 

_Thorin Oakenshield's latest sexual conquest is nothing like the bright young things he's usually spent his time with in the past few years. For one thing, the new fling is old enough to drink – by at least a decade, if the information I have is true – and for another, he's not part of the trade._

_He's a teacher, a college professor, if you can believe that. I wonder if they get up to kinky stuff in the bedroom – playing teacher and student, hot little detention games. Doesn't that make you all tingly? I know it gets me hot._

_The thing is, though, do you think someone like this, someone old and, well, pudgy can keep the interest of a man like Oaken Dick, someone who's proven time after time that all he wants from a companion is a tight young body and unquestioning obedience to whatever he wants to do._

_This seems to be the mystery man who was glimpsed last month in Baltimore. If Oakenshield's flying him out to shows, he must be terrific in the sack! Although we all know from previous experience just how far Oakenshield is willing to go for his fuckbuddies, so maybe he was just showing off._

_How long do you think this one will last? Let the countdown begin!_

Bilbo's chest felt funny: tight and hot. Suddenly, he felt something on his hand and he jumped.

"Hey, breathe." Nori's gaze was sympathetic. "Azog's known for being a real asshole, and he's got a real hard-on for Thorin. This is one of the kinder things he's said about some of Thorin's relationships."

Bilbo shook his head. "I … " He sucked in a deep breath. "Kinder?"

Nori shook his head. "That blonde woman? He shredded her – said vicious things about her and what she wanted from Thorin. They had a pretty public breakup about six … no nine months ago, now. Dori says that Thorin wasn't really upset, but this sort of news site had a field day. I think Azog's Orc Hordes threw a party."

Bilbo's head began to pound. "There are other sites like this? Are they all paying attention to … " _my private life._ "uh, Thorin?"

"No, really not. I mean, there are other sites – and worse, but Azog's the wost about Thorin, and even he doesn't spend all his time talking about him." Nori patted Bilbo's shoulder. "This really isn't that big a deal, and if Azog thinks Thorin's not serious, that probably means he really is."

Bilbo nodded. "Sure. I'll take your word for it."

***

Bilbo sat at his kitchen table, the house empty and echoing around him, staring at the laptop screen. He'd spent the past two hours looking at the gossip websites Nori'd given him. Some weren't so bad; many didn't seem to be paying any attention to Thorin – or who he might be dating – at all, and most of those which _did_ mention him weren't offensive or rude.

Azog's site was the worst; Bilbo spent a horrified half hour in the comments section reading messages from the Orc Hordes, then backed out. After a moment thinking about what Nori'd said about even Azog not paying all his attention to Thorin, he read one of the articles about some teenybopper actress he'd never heard of; the comments on that post were just as vitriolic as those on the one about Thorin. Bilbo sat back, feeling marginally better. 

None of the other sites had new photographs of Bilbo. He saved the pictures to his computer, then opened them up to look at them. They were of him on campus but only one appeared to be from close range. Two looked like they'd been taken from the city street of the faculty parking lot. One of them was from in a hallway, but even after several minutes of scrutiny, Bilbo couldn't figure out which.

His phone buzzed, across the room on the counter. Bilbo ignored it. Shoving his chair back, he flipped the laptop closed, gathered up a jacket and went out for a walk, leaving his phone behind.

He walked up the hill behind his house, climbing steadily for half an hour. When he paused and turned, he could see the whole Bay Area spread out in front of him. The wind had cleared out the haze, making everything crisp and clear. The bay glinted slightly in the winter sun, and a pair of hawks circled lazily overhead.

Bilbo sighed and went back to his hike. He made it to the top of the hill, panting slightly, and dropped onto a small bench someone had installed a few years before. Up here the view wasn't as good, oddly; the eucalyptus trees blocked most of the clear lines of sight. 

"So," he said. "That wasn't what I was expecting." The eucalyptus leaves rattled in the wind behind him and he dropped his head into his hands. "We haven't talked about what we want, have we? Crap. _Crap._ " He caught a flash of memory – his mother's face as she said that it was clear Thorin cared deeply about him. "How the hell can you tell, mom? And why do you think it's real? We barely know each other."

He stood and started to pace around. "How do I tell Frodo?" After another trip around the bench, he said, "Do I have to tell Frodo anything? What am I going to do? Shit."

He stood still for a long minute, then scrubbed his hands through his hair and groaned. "There's nothing for it but to deal with it. Dammit."

Back at the house, his phone showed three missed calls and six texts. 

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_Hey, so my sister says you should bring everyone, Frodo and all his friends. I haven't seen her this excited about meeting anyone in years.  
_

_From: Frodo  
To: Bilbo_

_Can I stay at Sam's house tonight? Merry and Pippin are here and we're having a big thing in game.  
_

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_I just remembered that Frodo's part of a threesome or… what do they call it now? Anyway, would he like to bring her? Rosa? Rosie? There's loads of room.  
_

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_Are you okay? You're awfully quiet. Maybe you're writing. I should let you write – more for me to read! :D  
_

_From: Ori  
To: Bilbo_

_This might sound odd, but can I stay over again? My brother's home from a trip and I think he needs some time to himself. I could help you with a paper or something.  
_

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_I was thinking – there's a great place I know in Pacifica. Want to go out to dinner tonight?  
_

All three missed calls were from Thorin; all were sent after his last text. With a sigh, Bilbo sat down and started responding. _Frodo can absolutely stay over – I'm in no mood to deal with anything from Merry or Pippin._ He rubbed a hand over his face, then sent a text to Ori asking if he needed Bilbo to pick him up and for how long he wanted to stay. Then he closed his eyes and called Thorin.

"Hi, Thorin. Yeah, sorry, I was, um. I'd gone out for a bit of a hike, up the hill."

There was a muffled shouting at Thorin's end, then Thorin's voice, warm and deep in Bilbo's ear. "No problem. I'm not … I don't want you to think you have to account for your time to me. I was just worried; you usually respond right away." Bilbo heard Kili shout something in the background. "So, dinner? I could pick you up, if you want."

Bilbo leaned his chin on his free hand, the other held the phone to his ear. Thorin sounded so eager, but that didn't make Bilbo feel any better. 

"Sure, that sounds … no. Wait. I'll meet you there. There's no reason for you to go out of your way like that." 

"Oh it's no trouble at all. I'll go round the circle – across the Richmond bridge and pick you up and then over the San Mateo bridge. Easy." Thorin sounded like he was smiling and Bilbo found himself smiling as well. 

"I've a friend coming to stay over – my graduate student…" Bilbo trailed off, realizing suddenly which brother it was who'd come home from a work trip. He huffed. "Right, so Ori's coming over. I'm sure it'll be easier just to meet you at the restaurant. What's the name?"

Fifteen minutes later, he'd found the address of the restaurant and settled with Ori that the code to the lock box with the spare key was the number of angstroms in an aromatic ring. 

On the drive to Pacifica, he turned on the radio. It was set to the modern rock station he'd been listening to since meeting Thorin, but the loud music and constant advertisments made his headache return, so he pushed buttons and sighed deeply as the rich sounds of Bach's Cello Suite in G filled the car. 

He wound through the narrow roads of Pacifica; it was a little hard to find the right one in the dark evening. Finally, he turned right, then left into the marked parking lot. As he got out of the car, he saw Thorin standing at the rocks overlooking the moonlit ocean. The silver light flashed off the buckles of Thorin's jacket and caught in his bright smile.


	31. Thirty One - or Thorin makes Bilbo wait outside in the cold and then is unreasonable about Azog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner isn't what Bilbo expected.

Bilbo locked his car and walked to where Thorin stood. The ocean was choppy, with sharp waves curling and hitting the heavy rocks piled at the edge of the parking lot, sending a cold spray into the winter night's air. 

"Come here," Thorin said, his voice deep. He held out his arms and Bilbo walked into them, sighing. _No matter what, he’s here right now and he gives damned good hugs._

They stood silently for a few minutes, then Thorin’s stomach growled. Bilbo huffed a laugh and pulled away.

“Dinner, then?” He looked around at the restaurant. “I’ve never been here. What kind of food is it?”

Thorin put his hand on the small of Bilbo’s back and guided him through the door. “Sort of American Greek seafood. It’s good, and the servings are large.” He smiled at the hostess, who greeted him happily by name then led them through the back of a crowded dining room and into a smaller, more private room. At this point, Bilbo noticed, it was so private that they were the only ones in it, although there were several tables.

After they were seated, and they’d both ordered something to drink, Thorin leaned forward, smiling broadly. “So, Kili and Fili are very excited about having you and your pack of kids over. They’ve been making the most extravagant plans - I dread to think what they’ll end up with.” He took Bilbo’s hand in his and rubbed his thumb across the back.

Bilbo smiled. “Frodo and Sam are looking forward to it, but I haven’t heard back yet from the others. I think they’re staying in the area for the holiday.” He glanced at the menu and shook his head. “I’ve no idea what’s good here. What do you like?” He pulled his hand away and picked up his menu, looking away from Thorin's blue eyes.

Thorin picked up his own menu, looking it over. “I usually like any of the beef, and the fish is always good. Fili and Kili grew up eating the fish and chips and linguini.” He smiled at Bilbo. “It’s one of my family’s favorite places to come.” 

He looked at the menu again. “Oh, they’ve Dungeness, if you like crab. The season just opened. Hey,” he grinned up at Bilbo. “Maybe we should get some live crab for the party. Have you guys ever done that? We could go to the boats - they come in just down the road a bit and you can get the crabs right after they’ve been caught.” He sighed happily, eyes a bit misty. “Nothing beats the flavor of really fresh crab.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I grew up further inland - we didn’t have any of that. We did have fresh fish -” He laughed. “Once we lost all the fish when I fell in while holding the fish bucket. My cousin Falco teased me for years about that.”

The sole filet Bilbo ordered was excellent and, for a while, Bilbo lost himself to the delicious food and Thorin's cheerful company. He didn't remember what he'd spent the day reading until they were leaving, moving carefully through the crowded outer dining area. Thorin had paid for the meal – the check hadn't even come to the table, in fact – and Bilbo was distracted thinking about what he could do to pay Thorin back.

"Oh my god," someone said as they edged past a table, "is that _Thorin Oakenshield_?" There was a spate of whispering and then one voice barked harshly, "And who's that with him, his grocer?"

Thorin's head, which had started to dip as he was recognized, snapped up. He glanced around the room, then turned to Bilbo. "Will you wait for me outside?" He was smiling, but Bilbo could see something unhappy in his eyes. Bilbo nodded, and Thorin's lips compressed for a second, before his face broadened into a happy smile. 

Thorin turned his back to Bilbo and stepped forward, so that there was a narrow open passage to the hostess' station and the restaurant's front door. The hostess had called someone – from their similarity of features, Bilbo assumed it was her mother – and the older woman bore down on Thorin with an expression an equal mixture of pleasure and exasperation. She stopped as she passed Bilbo and whispered, "He won't be long, don't you worry, young man."

Bilbo made it to the entry foyer and turned to see if Thorin was going to come after him. He was standing in the center of a small crowd, everyone chattering at once. He held something in one hand and signed it, while looking in another direction and smiling at something a man who looked as if he weren't much older than Ori. 

The young man leaned up to Thorin's ear and whispered something; to Bilbo's surprise, Thorin blushed and glanced in his direction. Bilbo stepped behind the carved wooden divider just before Thorin's head made it all the way around. As Bilbo watched, Thorin's eyes swept where he'd been standing. Then he turned back to the young man and nodded. 

Bilbo closed his eyes, hearing the echo of Nori's "ten relationships in ten years" and Azog's comments about what type of person Thorin usually dated. He pressed his lips together and went outside.

The moon had spun round while they were in the restaurant and shone on the waves. Bilbo stood at the chest high rock wall, watching the way the crests of the waves were black in the moonlight, even as the rest of the water was cool and silver. The waves were gentler now; they couldn't reach the rocks to leave spray in the air. The water rushed onto the little beach below the wall, sending exploratory fingers of ephemeral foam up to the tide line, then hissing as it withdrew into the next wave. 

After a while, Bilbo realized he was very cold. The moon had continued her slow journey around the night sky and he was shivering against the sharp rocks. He fumbled his cold hands into his pocket to pull out his phone; it had been nearly 45 minutes since he'd been rushed out here to hide. 

He looked across the parking lot to the bright lights shining through the restaurant windows and sighed. _Well, that's not what I expected, but I guess I should have._ Tucking his fingers into his armpits, he started for his car. As he was trying to get his cold hands to cooperate with pulling out his key so he could unlock the car, he heard Thorin call his name.

He turned. Thorin was standing in front of a side door to the restaurant that Bilbo hadn't noticed. Thorin hadn't seen him; he was staring back and forth across the parking lot. He jogged to the rock wall and looked over it to the beach, then, not seeing Bilbo there, he turned and trotted to the street and looked up toward the main road.

"Dammit. Bilbo…" Thorin ran his fingers through his hair. "Why didn't you wait?"

"I did," Bilbo said. "But it's been nearly an hour and I'm cold, Thorin."

Thorin spun around so fast he stumbled. "Bilbo," he cried, immediately starting forward. "You … wait, _how_ long?" He looked at his watch, then back up at Bilbo. "Oh god, I'm so sorry. I thought it was just like, ten minutes or something. Shit." He reached out and ran his hands up and down Bilbo's arms. "Let me warm you up, you're freezing."

Bilbo stepped back and Thorin's face fell. "What – I am very sorry for leaving you out here," Thorin said. In the dark, Bilbo couldn't see his whole face, but Thorin's mouth was turned down and his shoulders were tight.

Bilbo sighed. "That's … that's okay, I guess. Just, is this what it's like? People never leaving you alone at restaurants and saying awful things online about you and everyone around you?"

Thorin's shoulders hunched slightly. "There are compensations, but yes. It's less crazy when we haven't been on tour in a while." Then he tilted his head and looked at Bilbo, who could see that his brows were slowly drawing together. "Who have you been reading online?"

"I went to Gundabad and read –"

" _Azog._ What the fuck did that shitbag say this time?" Thorin's shoulders had relaxed out but his hands were clenched into fists. "And why did you go to his site?"

Bilbo stared up at him. He'd thought that Azog's vitriol was just something one-sided; maybe he'd been a crazy fan, only now he had a tv show and blog, but Thorin's instantaneous anger made things look a little different.

"He said something about me, about my weight. Oh, but –" Bilbo broke off, remembering something. "But he's been stalking me – he knows who I am. There were pictures of me on campus."

"FUCK!" Thorin turned and swung his fist, hitting the wall of the restaurant. "How did he find you?"

Bilbo stepped back, his car key held tightly in his hand inside his pocket. "I don't know, Thorin," he said. "I've never even heard of him before this."

"This is just what I was expecting. There's nothing the fucking man won't dig into. Why the hell doesn't he just leave me alone?" Thorin strode several steps away and then back, his face a rictus of fury. "He's never been able to just move on."

Bilbo's chest was so tight he could barely breathe. "Thorin," he called, then again louder when Thorin, still striding around angrily, didn't answer. "Thorin, this doesn't seem to be about me. It's very late and I'm cold and I'm going home. You can deal with Azog on your own – this clearly is not something that involves me at all."

Thorin turned away, his hands buried in his hair. "How does he do this, every time? I thought for once I'd be able to just have a … dammit, you're no one." 

Bilbo sucked in a breath just as Thorin swung around, his face oddly grey in the mixture of cool moonlight and warm reflected light from inside the restaurant. "That's not… I didn't mean it like that. I meant," Thorin reached for Bilbo, who flinched away. "I meant that Azog's got all these connections in movies and music. There's no reason he should know who you are. You were supposed to be safe."

"Safe for you or safe from him?" Bilbo crossed his arms.

Thorin slumped. "Both? I thought I'd met… that you were finally someone I could…" He tried to rub his eyes, but pulled back with a muttered curse. He looked at the blood on his knuckles. "What the hell?"

"That was a brick wall and you hit it pretty hard." Bilbo sighed, rubbed his forehead, then reached out for Thorin's hand. "Let me look at it. You've probably not broken anything, but it's good to check."

Thorin stilled when Bilbo took his hand. Bilbo held it gently, tugging slightly on Thorin to pull him into the light of the streetlamp. "There's too much blood, hang on a second?" Bilbo let go of Thorin's hand and started to turn back to his car when Thorin reached for him again. 

"Don't go," he said. His face was still grey, even in the brighter light.

"I'm going to my car to get a bottle of water. I'll be right back." Bilbo stepped out from under Thorin's hand. In his car, he found the bottle of water but discovered that the bandaids in his first aid kit had been used up.

Back under the light, he wetted one corner of the handkerchief he'd had in his pocket and gently wiped the blood away. There seemed to be mostly scrapes, but he made Thorin wiggle all his fingers and pressed carefully on the bones as Thorin moved his hand about. 

"Well," Bilbo said, "it looks like you've escaped lightly. You might want to have that x-rayed, though. Your hands are important." He folded the handkerchief so the wet part was outside and tied it around Thorin's hand.

Thorin reached out slowly with his uninjured hand and curled his fingers over Bilbo's shoulder. "Bilbo, I'm truly sorry. For Azog, for what I said. For leaving you alone out here." He bowed his head; his hair, now messy and wild from having his hands run through it so much, fell forward, hiding his face. 

Bilbo sighed. "Yes. But … I can't do this, Thorin."

Thorin's whole body flinched and his hand slipped off Bilbo's shoulder. "I understand." His voice sounded dead.

"I don't mean... Thorin, look at me." Thorin's head lifted immediately and he looked directly into Bilbo's eyes. "I mean this anger, the …" Bilbo waved a hand at Thorin's injured knuckles. "I have no idea what's going on or why you're so angry. Or why you and Azog hate each other so much. But no matter what, that anger isn't okay."

Thorin's eyes bored into his, their blue somehow darker, deeper. "Anything," he said. "Just … don't leave me. I'll do anything you need."

Bilbo sighed again. _That isn't really an improvement._ "That's not what I meant. I'm …" he shivered and was overtaken by a yawn. "I'm sorry, I'm exhausted. I've had a bit of a bad day."

"Do you want to come to my – no, that won't work, Dis is there tonight. I could –" Thorin stepped closer, and Bilbo felt his chest clench at the expression of desperation on Thorin's face. "I could come with you?"

"No, not tonight. Ori's at my house, and Frodo and the other boys will probably come over tomorrow." Bilbo yawned again. "And there's a lot we need to talk about." He saw Thorin twitch, sighed, and stepped into Thorin's chest, winding his arms around his warmth. 

Thorin froze for a second, then wrapped his arms tightly around Bilbo. His head dropped and he buried his face into the side of Bilbo's neck; his breath was warm on Bilbo's skin. Bilbo could feel that he was muttering something, but it was too low for him to hear. After a long moment, Thorin pulled back and, with his uninjured hand, he tipped Bilbo's face up. 

"May I have a kiss?" His voice, usually so smooth and powerful, was hoarse and rough.

"Of course." Bilbo leaned up, pressing his lips to Thorin's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the restaurant they've gone to: [Nick's](http://nicksrestaurant.net/). It's a very nice place, with occasional live music and the best view.


	32. Thirty Two - or Ori is lonely and Bilbo is invited to spend the night at Thorin's house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo makes preparations for a sleepover.

Bilbo woke up the next morning to the sounds of laughter in the kitchen. He pulled on his warmest fuzzy robe over his flannel pajamas and stumbled down the hall.

Ori was at the stove, cooking something which smelled wonderful but looked unidentifiable. Frodo sat at the table, Sam on his lap; Rosie was in the chair next to them. When Bilbo walked in, Ori glanced at him then turned back to his cooking.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind, but the kids were up and hungry and, well, you got in late last night." He turned a little pink, but his smile was friendly.

Bilbo rubbed a hand over his face. "Go ahead – cooking for them will definitely raise your grade point average." At that, Frodo snorted and Bilbo shot him a smile. "What _are_ you making?" he asked.

Ori looked over his shoulder at Bilbo. "Um," he said, looking back into the pan at the mess he was stirring. "Sort of everything? I mean, I looked in your fridge and you had leftover sausages and some other stuff, so I thought I'd make an omelette, but then you only had two eggs –"

"Oh right," Frodo said, "we're out of eggs. And, uh," he looked a bit shifty. "We're low on milk as well."

Bilbo sighed. "How much do you guys eat in any given twenty four hour period, anyway? Fifty pounds of food each day? Should I just start getting kibble?" He sank down at the table and rested his chin on his hand. "How about after we eat Ori's Breakfast Everything, we go to the grocery store and buy them out?" He grinned at the enthusiastic response from the three teenagers.

After breakfast, while Frodo and his companions cleaned the kitchen, Ori pulled Bilbo into the living room.

"I don't want to impose on you," he said and Bilbo patted his shoulder. 

"Don't worry about it." Bilbo stretched and tugged at his robe. "You can stay as long as you like – I know this is less formal than Emerson and his graduate students, but honestly, it's hard not to be. He's such a stiff."

Ori chuckled, then wandered to the window. "Yeah, why's he so stuffy? The other biologists are so much more relaxed." He poked at something, then picked it up. "Hey, this is cool, where'd you get it?" He turned around holding the tall carved elf.

"Isn't it great?" Bilbo looked around for Deathless – the last place he could remember seeing him was on the coffee table. After a second, he found the dwarf under a small drift of seminar papers. He seemed particularly grumpy when Bilbo pulled him out. "I was at the Summer's End festival thing – Frodo won tickets to the show and to the after show party. It's where I met Thorin, actually. Anyway, there was this guy there with a booth filled with amazing carvings." He held Deathless out to Ori, who smiled at the stern expression on his face. "And he and his cousin make these dragons – I don't even know how they make them work. Magic, I think." Bilbo peered into the window sill. "It's right there. Pick it up!"

They had spent several minutes admiring the dragon and the rest of the carvings when Sam stuck his head through the door. "We're done in the kitchen. Should we go through the fridge and make a list?"

Bilbo swung around, startled. "Oh! Yes. I'll just go get dressed." He turned back to Ori. "You can absolutely stay – come shopping. You can help keep the trouble to a minimum."

Ori grinned. "Okay, but I should get home after that. I'm sure my brother's got things he wants me to do."

Bilbo smiled at him. "Any time you need to get out, just tell him you've got to get some work done for me."

At the grocery store, Bilbo sent the kids off with the list and a budget while he and Ori walked through the aisles with their own cart. 

"So, I assume it's Dori who's come home?" Bilbo looked at a bag of exceptionally curly pasta and dropped it in the cart. 

"Yeah," Ori said, slouching as he walked next to the cart. "I mean, I love my brothers, but sometimes they forget that I'm not twelve any more." He sighed. "Nori's mostly okay, and so's Dori, usually, but whenever he comes home from being on tour, he just, well, it's like he has to remember all over again. And, I dunno, I just couldn't take it."

Bilbo smiled sympathetically. "My parents occasionally still treat me like I'm a teenager, but I can't deny they love me. No matter how many times I remind them that I don't need a damned jacket, it's not that cold."

Ori laughed. "He stopped fussing about jackets once I started knitting sweaters, but he won't leave me alone about, well," he shrugged again and ducked his face into his scarf. "About being alone. He was on tour for three months and he says that he'd rather I had someone to keep me company. Like date, you know. Only," and here Ori stopped dead in front of the cart, making Bilbo have to pull up short. "Only, there's no one I want to be with that way. I've a few friends, but no one …"

"No one romantic?" Bilbo suggested.

"Right." Ori sighed. 

"What are you, um, looking for? Or, are you really just not interested at all?" Bilbo crossed his arms on the cart's handrail and leaned forward.

Ori tucked his hands into his coat pockets. "I dunno, really. I'm interested in men, so there's that. I don't really care about age. I mean," he flashed Bilbo a grin. "I mean, I won't date children – like the undergrads – but, I don't need him to be near my age or super old or something."

Bilbo didn't ask what Ori might think of as 'super old', although he did laugh internally. "Okay," he said, "so a man, and somewhere between your age and his dotage. That really narrows it down."

Ori snorted. "I like men who do work. Like builders, or carpenters. Men who work with their hands." He caught the eye of a short woman about Bilbo's age who'd been looking at the wall of pasta sauce jars and blushed. She glanced at Bilbo and they shared a smile. 

"Well," Bilbo said, "I can't fault you for that. Good hands are always attractive." He pushed the cart down the aisle and smiled at the woman's stifled snicker.

***

Later that evening, when Sam and Rosie had gone home and Frodo was in his room – Bilbo didn't even pretend he'd gone to bed – Bilbo brought a cup of tea, a book, and the first of the afghans his mother'd made him into the living room. He settled down into his favorite chair, tucked the afghan over his legs and curled up to read; he'd chosen a book which Arwen had recommended about a series of missing people in Edinburgh and the borders between life and death. After about half an hour, his phone buzzed. 

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo _

_Can I call you?  
_

Bilbo shook his head at the text and pressed the button to call Thorin. As soon as Thorin picked up, Bilbo said, "So, my graduate student's gone home and it hit me while I was at dinner with you that you know his brother. He's your percussionist."

"He's my… Dori? Right," Thorin sounded slightly anxious. "I'd forgot, your graduate student is his youngest brother. How's he doing? Uh, _what's_ he doing?"

Bilbo laughed and leaned back in his chair, wriggling into a more comfortable position. "We're working on enolates, I think I've said, and he's doing really well. I'm lucky to have him." He adjusted the afghan over his lap. "How're you?"

Thorin was silent for a minute, then he sighed. "I'm okay. Good. I … I was thinking, would you like to come over before the big party? You can see the house and we could talk?"

Bilbo nodded, then said, "Yes, actually. That sounds nice. My schedule's entirely open and I don't have to worry about the trouble trio so much. Is this like, for dinner, or…"

"Anything you want," Thorin said, just a little too quickly. "You can come tonight, or tomorrow?" He paused. "Tomorrow's probably better – then I can go shopping for dinner. I want to make you roast pork with cracklings, and brussels sprouts, and – do you like sprouts?"

"Oh, that sounds lovely. I haven't had that in years. And I love them." Bilbo smiled. "Is there anything I should bring?"

"Other than yourself, I can't think of anything." Thorin sounded less anxious. "How are your nephew and his, um, friends?"

Bilbo laughed. "Oh god, they're inseparable. I swear, the three of them are never more than half a room from the others. Right now, though, the other two have gone home – to their respective, individual homes, I mean – and Frodo's up on Skype, still talking to them. I don't know what they'll do when school starts back. "

"I'm sure you'll get to hear all about the suffering," Thorin said. "If I had a nickel for every time Kili whined about whoever he was in love with this week…"

"Isn't he still interested in that redhead, Tauriel?"

"Oh, yes, for a couple of years now, but when he was Frodo's age, he was in love with a different girl every single week. We were impressed one time in high school when he managed to find his One True Love three times in one week." Thorin laughed and Bilbo could picture the way he looked, his eyes sparkling and his teeth flashing white against the dark of his beard. 

Bilbo closed his eyes and snuggled further under his blanket. "Did Fili not do the same thing?"

Thorin chuckled, low and deep. "No, Fili's always been a bit steadier. He dated the same girl throughout high school. I think she broke up with him when they went off to college, but I haven't kept up. He'll have. He's good about stuff like that."

"And I know from Dwalin that you were never hard up in college," Bilbo said, smiling at the memory of Thorin's reaction when Dwalin teased him across the table.

Thorin made a strangled sound, and muttered, "Jerk. I'll get him back for telling all my secrets." 

Bilbo laughed. "That's what best friends are for, right? I'm just lucky you've only met my parents and none of the pack of cousins I grew up with."

"Oh really? So spill! What were you like? I'll bet you dated everyone. Or at least that everyone wanted to go out with you." Thorin sounded amused and slightly jealous, which made Bilbo snort. 

"Actually, I was a bit of a late bloomer, romantically. I was sure there was something wrong with me when I hadn't fallen in love with Ruby Bolger, like all my friends had." Bilbo closed his eyes. "It wasn't until the summer between high school and college when I saw one of the guys on the college swim team that I figured out what might be going on."

Thorin chuckled. "So, you like jocks."

"No, not really. I mean, sure, who wouldn't want to look at a swimmer's body, but mostly now I’m interested in someone I can talk to and rely on. The fact that you're very handsome and sexy as hell is just gravy."

There was an odd sound from Thorin's end of the phone call. First there was something which sounded like a wheeze, then there was a clatter so loud Bilbo pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at it as if the screen would show him what was going on. "Uh, Thorin?"

"Sorry, sorry, dropped the phone. I –" Thorin coughed. "I wasn't expecting that."

"Oh, I'm ever so sorry. Should I not have said it?" Bilbo tried to sound innocent.

"No, no, it's fine … good. I like the way you look. Your hair glowed in the light when we first met. I remember watching you as you waited with your group of kids."

It was Bilbo's turn to be surprised. "You noticed me then? But I'm just," he glanced down at his soft body. "I'm nothing special."

"Ah, but Bilbo," Thorin said, his voice now thrumming with passion, "you're everything special."

Bilbo sat blinking, absolutely unsure of what to say. "I … thank you."

***

Bilbo spent the next morning baking. He made three kinds of scones, fruit and oat bars, blondies, and started several loaves of bread rising. By noon, he'd filled the counters and most of the table with cooling baked goods and he stood, hands on his hips, surveying the kitchen.

"Wow," Frodo said, leaning on the door jamb. "What's going on? You weren't listening to Sweeney Todd, so it can't have been bad news."

Bilbo swung around. "I'm going out for the evening and I'm probably staying out. You can have Sam over, but not Merry or Pippin. Not unless you all go to Sam's house – I don't want them in the house without an adult." He snorted at Frodo's grin. "Yes, well, I'm not sure my insurance covers their level of mayhem." He gestured to the full counters. "I've made stuff for you, but I’m bringing some of the scones and two of the loaves of bread."

"Is Thorin's place nice?" Frodo's smile was very broad.

"I don't know yet," Bilbo sighed. "I'll tell you later. You'll see it yourself, anyway, when we go on Saturday. Let me know if you hear from Pippin and Merry about coming along. I think Thorin's talking to Gimli's dad about setting up a game for the party." Bilbo ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, and that guy, the Azog guy? He did end up finding me – Thorin's really upset about it."

Frodo straightened up. "He can't have said anything too bad, though, because you're nice. He's only mean to people who are …" He paused, clearly trying to think of how to say what he meant. 

"To people who deserve it?" Bilbo wasn't sure that this was true, but he wasn't going to have a discussion about it with Frodo. 

Frodo nodded, looking relieved. "Right." He wandered to the counter and picked up a scone, biting nearly half of it off. "Mmmph, pear. D'lishus."

Bilbo laughed. "I'll be home by tomorrow afternoon. Text me if you need anything."

Frodo waggled his eyebrows. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he sing-songed, snatching another scone and darting back down the hall to his room. Bilbo shook his head and started packing up the food. 

In his bedroom, he packed clothes and the book he'd been reading when Thorin called, and then, not thinking about it much, tossed in the gloves, and a zip lock bag with the lube and some condoms. _Can't hurt to be prepared, right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it occurred to me that I should post the recipe for Ori's Breakfast Everything:
> 
> Ori's Breakfast Everything is chopped leftover sausages, the last of the mushrooms, the half-onion Bilbo'd left in the crisper, cherry tomatoes cut in half, the half baked potato that Sam didn't finish three days ago, all with a good squeeze of the pre-mixed italian herbs from the top of the fridge. He figured that ginger wouldn't do and but cut in the last of the pre-peeled garlic cloves. Cook all of that until the flavors mix and the tomatoes are soft, and then mix in the two eggs, beaten with the last of the milk because Frodo's a teenager and forgot to tell Bilbo that he'd nearly emptied the gallon jug. Add in several large cups of coffee and eat with gusto. (And now you know how I cook on busy weekend mornings. *grin*) 
> 
> Also, here's the recipe I'm going to be using next for Roast Pork with Cracklings: [Roast Pork](http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/pork-recipes/6-hour-slow-roasted-pork-shoulder/)
> 
> Mmmm, food.


	33. Thirty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's house is lovely and Thorin's family likes Bilbo's baked goods.

Bilbo peered through the car window at the fog. "Good thing I've got a GPS on my phone," he muttered. "Belvedere is damned tricky."

After five more minutes driving down several winding streets, Bilbo turned down one last narrow road and, glancing at the GPS, kept right up the driveway rather than left into the neighbor's front parking area. "If he can navigate this nightmare, how'd he get lost in Hobbiton?" Bilbo sighed and pulled up in between a large house on the left – the ground floor of which seemed to be all garage – and another multi-car garage on the right. 

As Bilbo turned off his car, Fili and Kili came boiling out from the side of the garage, followed by a woman who looked very similar to Thorin. 

"Bilbo," Fili said, echoed by Kili's bright voice. They bowed in unison and even as Bilbo laughed, he wondered how long they'd practiced that, and how young they'd started. "Welcome to our humble home," Kili said, sweeping a hand out in a broad circle.

"Thank you, lads," Bilbo laughed. "Where should I –"

Just as the woman came close, Thorin himself bolted out of a door to the side of the garages in the house on the left. "Bilbo," he said, looking slightly frazzled. "I'm sorry, I meant to be waiting…" 

The woman laughed, low and soft. "Since no one here has any manners," she said, her voice warm, "I'll have to introduce myself." She reached out and took Bilbo's proffered hand. "I'm Dis, sister to that one," she pointed at Thorin, who crossed his arms, "and mother of these two hellions." She wound her arms around Kili and Fili wrapped one of his around her shoulders, beaming.

"Hello," Bilbo said, smiling. "I'm Bilbo Baggins, but I guess you know that." 

Kili looked even more delighted. "We've told her all about you," he said, then rolled his eyes at Thorin's groan. 

"I brought some scones and, ah, other things. Bread. I hope I brought enough – I hadn't expected …" Bilbo said.

"Oh no," Dis replied, "we're not staying for dinner. I've just heard a lot about you and –"

"And rather wanted to know who your brother's making friends with?" Bilbo asked, voice slightly dry.

She laughed. "Something like that. And honestly," she leaned closer and whispered loudly, "Thorin makes really good paté and I was hoping to steal some."

At that, Bilbo started laughing. "Good to know." He swung around to look at Thorin. "Real paté?"

Thorin shrugged. "Chicken, it's nothing special."

Bilbo smiled and came close to him, tucking a hand into the elbow of one of his crossed arms. "I've got bread that I just made this morning, let's cut it thin and eat them together." 

"Sounds delicious," said Fili. 

Bilbo saw Thorin's shoulders tighten. "Hey," Bilbo said very low, so that only Thorin could hear him. "Your nephews are lovely, and your sister seems nice. We've got all night, right?" He ran a hand up Thorin's arm.

Thorin sighed and uncrossed his arms, then rubbed his hands together. "Right then, let's have something to eat! Bilbo, you can move your car to the garage, if you like. I'll just – " he rummaged around in his jeans pocket and pulled out a key fob, pressing a button. The center garage door slid open nearly silently. 

"Shall I take my bags out now – the baking and stuff or …?"

Fili and Kili were already halfway through the garage to a door in the back wall. Thorin smiled. "We can take it up once you've parked."

Bilbo pulled into the garage; when he opened the back door of his car to pull out the plastic tubs with his food, he was startled to find Kili next to him, arms out. 

"I'll just take that," Kili said, peering interestedly through the translucent plastic. "Uncle wouldn't let us taste the linzer cookies." Over his shoulder, Thorin had his face in his hands.

"Well, I'm sure I can make more, and there should be enough of this for you to have some." Bilbo started to swing his bag over his shoulder, but before it could settle, Thorin lifted the weight of it off him. 

At Bilbo's raised eyebrows, he said, "You're a guest, you shouldn't carry anything."

Upstairs, Kili and Fili and Dis walked off towards where Bilbo assumed the kitchen was and Thorin led him up another set of stairs to the third floor, which appeared to be entirely set aside as a master suite. 

Thorin opened the door at the top of the stairs and stepped back, looking suddenly very anxious. "You don't – I mean, there are other … "

Bilbo stepped forward, through the door, then turned and pulled Thorin through with him. "Come here, you," he said. "You haven't kissed me yet."

Thorin groaned, dropped the bag, and leaned forward carefully. His lips were soft and gentle, first just pressing against Bilbo's, then after a heartbeat, he breathed in sharply and wound his arms around Bilbo, pulling him close. His mouth was hot and strong and Bilbo felt himself melting into the kiss.

Several heated minutes later, Thorin pulled back and rested his forehead against Bilbo's. "I missed you," he whispered.

"I'm here now," Bilbo responded, rubbing his hands gently up and down Thorin's back. They stood together for another moment, then Thorin stepped back.

"We should go downstairs before there's nothing left to eat," he said. His voice was a bit hoarse.

"Well, I don't want to miss out on the paté, that's for sure," Bilbo said and followed Thorin back down the stairs. 

Downstairs, Thorin led Bilbo through a large open room. One side had windows overlooking the parking area and the other side of the room had french doors leading out to what looked, in the evening light, like a courtyard. Ahead of them, the sound of Dis and her sons spilled from a bright doorway.

The kitchen was huge. Bilbo felt his jaw drop as he walked into it. _The things I could cook here…_ "Wow," he said. "This is amazing."

Kili looked pleased. "Thorin added more cabinets, and Bombur helped him pick out the stove." They'd set out the loaves of bread, but left the container of scones and other pastries closed on a sideboard. Bilbo would have believed that they hadn't eaten anything if he hadn't caught a glimpse of cookie crumbs in Fili's moustache. 

Dis sat at a table, a plate in front of her with one of the scones on it. She smiled up at Bilbo and Thorin as they came into the room.

"These are excellent," she said, gesturing at the scone. "May I have the recipe?"

"Of course," Bilbo said, moving to the bread. "I'll email it to Thorin and – "

"Oh, I'll just give you my address. That way he can't lose it." She smiled at her brother, who looked disgruntled. 

"It was one time and I found it in the end." He took two ceramic terrines from the fridge and set them out, then gathered a bowl of grapes and one of olives and put them next to the terrines of paté. At Bilbo's cutting gesture, he pulled a bread knife off a magnetic strip on the wall.

"So," Bilbo said to Dis as he cut thin slices of bread and stacked them, "other than riding herd on these two troublemakers, what do you do?"

She smiled. "I'm an architect and civil engineer." 

Bilbo had a sudden nearly physical memory of sitting with Thorin and discussing his brother. He stilled for a moment, then turned and lifted the stack of bread slices. "We should toast these, before we dig into this delicious looking food. Maybe ten minutes in a hot oven?" Fili pounced on the bread and he and Kili bickered amiably as they arranged it on trays to bake. 

"Architecture's always interested me," Bilbo said. "Sort of like making truly functional art, you know. The way the line of a roof shapes the space of the house – and sometimes the whole property." 

The other four people in the room looked at him for a second and he laughed softly. "Just because I do chemistry for a living doesn't mean I don't appreciate other things." He turned to Dis. "Do you work for a city or …" 

She scooped some of the paté onto a small plate. "I'll be taking over our family firm, when we can convince our father to retire." She and Bilbo both ignored Thorin's muttered, "That'll never happen." 

"Until then," she continued, "I have a small consultancy here. We work mainly with municipalities – helping them design communities for lower income residents, or for the elderly."

The oven timer chimed and Kili pounced, pulling out the trays of toasted bread. 

"Now," Dis said, standing. She quickly gathered a bowl with some of the grapes, a little more of the paté, a few olives, and a third of the bread. "Come on, boys," she said, "let's go." 

"Yup," said Fili, elbowing Kili hard in the ribs. "It was nice seeing you again, Bilbo. We're looking forward to seeing you and your boys at the party." 

"It was lovely to meet you at last," Dis said, smiling at Bilbo. "Thorin has said many good things about you and it's a pleasure to find out that they're true." She swept out, trailing her sons, almost too quickly for Bilbo to manage a polite response.

"Well," he said, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "That was interesting."

Thorin laughed. "She's always been intimidating. I'm not surprised she liked you, though."

Bilbo sat down and pulled a terrine of paté closer. "I'm pleased to have passed inspection." He took a bite of the paté on his bread and sighed. "Oh, Thorin, this is delicious." 

Thorin's cheeks pinked. "Thank you. I hope you like the rest of dinner as well."

"I'm sure I will. I'm hungry – I deliberately skipped lunch so I could do your cooking justice."

Over dinner, roast pork with crackling skin, roasted brussels sprouts, stewed apples and figs, a fresh green salad, glazed carrots and couscous mixed with what tasted like Indian spices, they chatted about Frodo and the rest of his friends, and about Fili and Kili's youths.

"Ori's been frustrated with his brother," Bilbo said as he poked at the lsat of the salad at the end. "Dori was away for so long he'd sort of forgotten that Ori's not a kid." Thorin chuckled and Bilbo laughed. "Yeah, I know. I mean, I can see Dori's point – Ori's about 25 or so – but as the only child of a pair of very involved parents, I feel for Ori." 

Thorin stood and started gathering up dishes, rinsing them and setting them in the dishwasher. "Would he like to come to the party? He's certainly welcome," Thorin paused and took the bowls Bilbo had brought to him at the sink. "And it might be a way for him to see that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. I remember being in school and thinking that it would never _ever_ end." 

Bilbo shrugged. "I'll ask him. Are the other band members not coming?" He pulled out a tea towel from the door handle of the fridge and wiped the table down. "I guess I'm not really sure what the plan is. Or the guest list."

Thorin shut the dishwasher and dried his hands on the towel Bilbo handed him, then tucked it back through the fridge door handle. "Well, you and me, obviously, and Dis and Fili and Kili – family. And Frodo and his group. Hey," he sat back down at the table and Bilbo followed him. "Are the gaming kids coming? Because Gloin's all excited about being able to have a game again."

"I think so, but I'm not positive." 

Thorin opened his arms and Bilbo stepped between his legs; he laced his fingers together behind Thorin's neck. Thorin leaned his cheek against Bilbo's wrist, then continued. "So, Gloin and his family, which probably means Gimli's bringing his pet blond and he'll bring along Kili's Tauriel." 

Bilbo snorted. "What do you have against them? They seemed very nice, when I met them." 

Thorin sighed. "It's more that I don't like Legolas' father. When we – the band – when we were starting over, he broke our representation contract." He rubbed his cheek, furry and soft, against Bilbo's arm, making him shiver. 

"Starting over?" Bilbo stepped closer; Thorin was warm. 

Thorin looked up at him. "Well, Dori and the boys came later. Bifur's been with us the whole time, but we had a pretty major shakeup after a few years together. My cousin – one of my cousins – wait, I've told you that we're all sort of related, right? I mean, most of us. Dori's not, and Bifur and his family just by marriage, but Dwalin and his brother are my cousins and Gloin and Oin are as well."

Bilbo gaped at him. "Your family is very strange."

"You can't talk, young man," Thorin laughed, "I've heard you talk about your cousin, what's her name? Lorelei?"

Bilbo barked a laugh, leaning into Thorin's chest. "Lobelia. Alright, your family's no stranger than mine." He stayed there, arms draped around Thorin, chin hooked over his shoulder, Thorin's warm body pressed to his. Thorin tucked his face into the curve of Bilbo's shoulder and muttered something.

"What was that?" Bilbo tried to turn to look Thorin in the eyes, but Thorin tightened his arms and shook his head. Bilbo sighed. "I don't think I'll ever eat again," he said. "That whole dinner was perfect."

That made Thorin pull back and smile up at him. His eyes sparkled. "Thank you. I hoped you'd like it. Were the carrots okay? I was worried that they'd be too sweet, with the apples."

Bilbo shook his head. "No, they were great." He leaned forward again and closed his eyes. _What a nice evening._ "Thorin," he said slowly.

Thorin squeezed him for a moment, then pushed him away – not far, but enough for them not to be hugging anymore. His hands fell to Bilbo's hips and rested there, thumbs hooked through Bilbo's belt loops. "I know, you said we have to talk and I guess you're right. I'm just …" Bilbo saw his jaw clench.

"How about we make some coffee and sit somewhere comfortable?" 

Half an hour later, they sat in the darkened living room, near the doors to the courtyard. Thorin sat upright at one end of a small sofa, coffee mug held so tightly Bilbo could see his knuckles turning white. His injured right hand was still bandaged; Bilbo reached out and touched it gently. 

"How's your hand?" 

Thorin looked down at it, then sagged. "It's okay, I didn't break anything. Bilbo," he pressed his lips together. "I am _so_ sorry for what I said and did."

Bilbo's eyebrows twitched. "Yes, thank you. So," he leaned back and tucked his feet under Thorin's thigh. "Who's Azog?"


	34. Thirty Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations don't always go where one thinks they will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW!

Bilbo watched Thorin's face in the dimness. He'd stiffened at the question, more expressions than Bilbo could keep track of flashing over his face. 

Finally, he said, "He's … someone I used to know. He and I were –" he stopped speaking for a minute, his face frozen in a rictus of fury, which suddenly collapsed into something like grief. "We grew up together. Not quite friends, you know, but familiar with each other. Same schools and such." 

Bilbo hummed his understanding and Thorin's blue eyes flicked up to his. Thorin smiled slightly, then continued. "So, anyway, at college we ended up in the same gen ed classes. He's a journalism major, so we didn't have core stuff in common, but we were in English and whatnot together. We stayed friends – good friends, by then – through college and just a bit after, then …" Thorin stopped again and Bilbo could see the muscles in his jaw clenching. 

"Break ups are hard," Bilbo said, "even if they're just with friends." He thought of Lobelia, who'd been different when they were children. "Sometimes more so when they're break ups with friends. We expect romantic relationships to fail sometimes, but friends are supposed to be friends forever."

Thorin closed his eyes, his lips pressed into a tight line. "Ah. Yes." He looked down and seemed surprised that he was holding something. He sipped from the cup, then sighed. "Now he won't let me have anything."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. _That sounds odd._ "Erm, what do you mean?"

Thorin sipped again. "Any time I'm in a relationship, he posts these horrible things about me or whoever I'm with. He said some truly awful things about Candi. None of them were true, and we didn't break up for any of the reasons the stupid talk shows said."

"Candy?" Bilbo drank some of his own coffee. "Surely he's not anti-sugar, or something silly like that."

Thorin snorted. "No, Candi's my ex. She's … I met her at a party. We weren't ever really serious, you know, just –" He shrugged. "Just seeing each other to have someone to spend time with. She's very nice and she really loves the guy she's with now. I hope they make it. It's hard to keep a relationship going in LA. Having temporary relationships is so much easier."

"She's blonde?" At Thorin's nod, Bilbo chuckled. "I've heard about her, I think. Some kids were talking about you in the hall at school and they mentioned her." He smiled, remembering the rest of that conversation. "And I learned that there's this boy in the Physics program who's been using rumors about his dick size to get people into bed."

Thorin laughed. "If it works for him…" 

Bilbo grinned. "Yeah, it wouldn't have worked for me in college. Can you imagine? 'Hey, I've a five foot cock, wanna see?'" 

Thorin leaned back against the arm of the couch; the pale moonlight caught in the silver strands of his hair and along the strong arch of his nose, flashing off his teeth as he laughed. 

_He really is beautiful._ Bilbo closed his eyes against the internal echo of Smeagol's voice. _And no matter what happens, he's here with me now. I guess a relationship like this isn't something that could really last in the real world – a rock star with a chemistry professor. I'd better take advantage of it while it's here._

"I can't imagine you having trouble getting dates – the way you look." Thorin smiled at him and Bilbo flinched. 

"Oh, I'm not so sure." Bilbo swirled the coffee in his cup. "I'm pretty sure my experiences aren't anything as interesting as yours."

Thorin's brows drew together; he leaned forward and slid a hand around one of Bilbo's ankles. "You don't believe the crap Azog posted about you, do you? He's full of shit – professionally so, actually." 

Bilbo laughed. "No, it's okay. I know I'm nothing like the latest hot young thing from LA. I do _have_ a working reflective surface in my house." He shivered a bit as Thorin's warm hand stroked up his leg as far as the cuff of his pants allowed. "But that's … I mean, I don't expect to look like them. I've got at least ten years on most of them – if not more – and I don't spend any time at the gym."

Thorin licked his lips and glanced up and down Bilbo's body. "You look good to me," he said. "Why …" He sat up and stared at Bilbo, eyes narrow. "So, who _did_ lie to you about how you look?"

Bilbo stared at him, mouth slightly open. "What? Smeagol didn't … "

Thorin's mouth tightened. "Smeagol. I don't like him already."

"You and everyone else," Bilbo muttered, making Thorin smirk. "He wasn't a nice guy, in the end." 

"Well, if he gave you up, he wasn't very bright either." Thorin looked very sure of himself. "I wouldn't –" He shifted on the couch, scooting backward a little so he was sitting straighter. "But this doesn't answer my question. What did he say? And do you know where he is so I can punch him in the nose?"

Bilbo laughed at the image of skinny little Smeagol with his early male-pattern baldness standing next to Thorin, broad and tanned and crowned with his fall of thick, dark hair. "Don't bother," he said, still smiling. "He's not worth it. He's long gone, anyway. He went off to study some cave system under a bunch of mountains in China. They were pretty in the pictures he showed me. All jagged corners with mist floating through them… Atmospheric, I guess you'd say."

Thorin crossed his legs and leaned forward, cradling his cup in his lap. "Whatever he said, it's wrong." He looked straight into Bilbo's eyes, then his gaze flicked to Bilbo's body. "If he said you look bad, you can take it from me, he was absolutely lying. You're perfect, just the way you are now."

Bilbo stared at him, taken aback. _This wasn't what I was expecting. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?_ "I, um…" He sipped his coffee, but it had gone cold. "Thank you, but you don't have to flatter me. I'm already here." _For as long as this lasts. At least I'll be able to remember it when it's over._

Thorin made a choked noise and his brows twisted. "That's not … I'm not flattering you. You're lovely."

His gaze locked on Bilbo's, his eyes like dark pools. He seemed pale in the moonlight falling through the window. His hand shaking slightly, he reached out and tried to set his cup on the low wooden coffee table, but he didn't quite make it at first and had to turn to look at his hand. Then, face still tight with some emotion Bilbo couldn't identify, he put Bilbo's cup on the table as well and slid to his knees next to the couch, staring up into Bilbo's face. It felt to Bilbo as if much of the air had suddenly gone out of the room.

"Bilbo," he whispered, "You're…" He surged up, sliding his fingers along Bilbo's jaw and into his hair, fingertips pressing against Bilbo's scalp. His mouth met Bilbo's hard, his kiss urgent and demanding. Bilbo leaned into it, feeling his body heat up at Thorin's passion. 

After a long moment, though, Bilbo pulled back. Thorin, eyelids lowered, chased him with a sound of protest. 

"Wait," Bilbo said, half laughing, "I can't. I'm twisted and my back'll kill me later. Let me just –" 

Thorin sank back and heaved a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't think…" 

Bilbo turned to face him and spread his legs so Thorin was kneeling between Bilbo's knees. "Oh, don't worry," Bilbo murmured, "shall we go back to what we were doing?"

He stroked the fingers of his right hand along Thorin's cheek and around the curve of his ear, pushing through his heavy hair. "Oh," he said, "you've a braid here?"

Thorin, still looking up at him, nodded. His expression was soft and open, his lips parted. "Yes," he breathed, "two. One on either side." 

Bilbo picked through his hair until he found both braids; he ran his fingers down to the tails. "Beads?" He lifted them, but the thin moonlight wasn't enough to see clearly. 

"My grandmother made them," Thorin said. 

Bilbo held the beads in his hands and slowly wrapped the braids around his hands, watching as Thorin's eyes lost focus and glazed over. Thorin's breathing was short and fast; each breath ended on a whimper. Bilbo leaned down, Thorin stopped breathing and pressed forward, kissing Bilbo as if he were unable to do anything else.

After a while, after Thorin's hands found their way under Bilbo's shirt and were kneading Bilbo's back and sides, Thorin pulled back. This time it was Bilbo's turn to follow Thorin's lips with his own. 

"Come upstairs," Thorin said, standing and pulling Bilbo up with him. "Let me show you how I feel about you."

Upstairs, Thorin shut the door behind them and led Bilbo to the bedroom. It had floor to ceiling windows with a view of the whole Bay but all Bilbo saw was the moonlight streaming in, illuminating Thorin, pulling his shirt over his head and tugging at his jeans. 

When Thorin was entirely nude, he stepped to Bilbo and cupped his hands under Bilbo's jaw, his fingers buried in Bilbo's hair. He leaned down slowly and pressed his lips to Bilbo's, then shifted and kissed his forehead gently. He whispered something Bilbo couldn't quite catch as he kissed his eyelids, then his cheeks, then returned to his mouth.

"Let's get this stuff off you," he said softly, and began pulling at Bilbo's clothes. Bilbo shifted and wiggled out of his shirt, then pulled his own pants off. He didn't have time to think of anything – about his body or Thorin's – before Thorin's mouth was on his neck, sending waves of pleasure through him.

Thorin's arms were wrapped around him, pressing their chests together. He was alternately kissing and nibbling down Bilbo's neck, tugging gently at his earlobe and moving across Bilbo's collarbone to the other side of his neck. Bilbo held onto Thorin's shoulders, his body already shuddering with pleasure. He'd never known his collarbone could be so sensitive.

Thorin's mouth, heated and eager, moved to his again and Bilbo lost himself in the kiss. He felt Thorin's hand in hair, the other stroked up and down his back, scratching lightly at his shoulders and cupping his ass. Bilbo felt like the world was tilting slightly; he felt Thorin push gently at the front of his shoulders and realized that they'd moved to the bed when he was distracted.

He laughed a little and let himself fall backward, bouncing slightly. Thorin stood above him; he was smiling, but his eyes were still dark. He leaned over Bilbo and licked from his sternum to his neck, then kissed him again. "Stay there," he said and turned away. 

Bilbo shivered – the wet stripe up his chest was cold – and watched as Thorin pulled open a drawer in a small table near the bed. Thorin pulled out an open topped wooden box with low sides and set it on the nightstand next to the bed. Then, with another smile, he crawled onto the bed next to Bilbo.

"You look amazing lying there. I never thought I'd get to see you here, in my bed," he whispered. Bilbo reached for him and Thorin moved so he was lying along the length of Bilbo's body, his head propped on one hand and the other hand free to roam over Bilbo's body.

Bilbo opened his mouth, but Thorin just leaned forward and kissed him again. Bilbo felt increasingly dizzy. His cock was hard and throbbing softly. Thorin's hand stroked down Bilbo's chest, stopping at his nipples. He ran a thumb over one, then the other, moving back and forth between them. When they were tight and erect, he rolled one between his fingers, and sucked on Bilbo's earlobe at the same time.

Bilbo whined, his hips lifting off the bed. He grabbed at Thorin, trying to pull him closer, but Thorin just laughed, low and deep, and said, "I love the way you react, so needy, so hot. Let me see you."

Thorin shifted so he was kneeling between Bilbo's legs and lowered his mouth to Bilbo's chest. He licked one nipple at the same time as he rolled the other with the flat of his palm; Bilbo felt a band of pleasure shoot from his nipples straight to his balls. His hips rose again and oh … oh it was lovely to press his cock against Thorin's furred chest. 

Thorin sank a little lower, his mouth still moving back and forth between Bilbo's nipples; this way when Bilbo rocked up and down, Thorin rocked with him, not letting him stroke his cock fully. 

"Oh god, Thorin please…" Bilbo whimpered. He felt Thorin's teeth against his chest and the thought of him biting made him cry out. 

"What do you want, baby," Thorin said. "I'll do anything you tell me."

Bilbo moaned, his head tossing from side to side. "I just … anything, oh god. It feels … I can feel you, warm … more, please."

Thorin laughed again, his low voice rumbling in Bilbo's chest. "Your wish is my command. Mmmm, I love the way you taste under me." His mouth moved lower, pressing kisses and little nipping bites down Bilbo's belly to his hips. Each place his mouth touched, Bilbo felt sparks shoot through his body, up his spine and down to his toes. 

He could feel every inch of his skin, the way the soft blankets under him were slightly curled, the way Thorin's fingertips were slightly callused, the heat from Thorin's body and the way that heat pooled in the tiny space between them. Thorin's hands were spots of heat on his body, his mouth a furnace. 

Thorin's tongue slid across the curve of Bilbo's hip; he blew air onto the base of Bilbo's cock and Bilbo heard himself whine again, high and thin. Then Thorin bit gently where he'd blown and Bilbo stopped breathing. Pleasure shot up his spine, filling his brain with light. 

Thorin's lips closed over the tip of Bilbo's cock; Bilbo felt his breath jolt back into his body. His cock was aching and he needed … he wanted more, more heat more Thorin more … His hands were buried in Thorin's hair, the soft strands of it had tangled in his fingers. 

He found Thorin's braids and tugged on them, trying to pull Thorin further down, to make him give more. Thorin grunted, low and hard; Bilbo felt his body jerk, his hips shove forward and tried to make himself remember that for later, but then everything was lost in the feel of Thorin's mouth sliding down his cock, the heat and pressure filling his body and mind up until there was nothing – no room left for anything but pleasure.


	35. Thirty Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin have a short discussion after breakfast - and a very steamy morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NOT SAFE FOR WORK. Not at all, golly.
> 
> Also, I'm behind on responding to comments; I'm very sorry. I've spent the whole week chasing my tail with my house and right now, my partner and I are in the wilds of Nevada having a quick holiday road trip. I'll catch up on Tuesday, but I'm loving all your thoughts! <3

Thirty Five

Bilbo woke up in the dark. He blinked a couple of times, then the darkness resolved itself into Thorin's bedroom. He was very warm and the blankets seemed very heavy; when he tried to shift a bit, the blankets growled and Bilbo laughed under his breath. 

"Hey Thorin," he whispered, shoving gently at the arm pulling him closer, "I've got to roll over or my shoulders will die."

Thorin grumbled in his sleep, but his arm loosened and Bilbo wriggled until he was lying on his other side. This meant he was now facing Thorin. He couldn't see much – it was overcast now, and the moon had gone down, but Thorin's skin caught the light enough for Bilbo to see a little. Thorin's face was softer when he was sleeping, and Bilbo wondered how much stress Thorin was under. 

Without thinking, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Thorin's cheek. "It'll be okay," he whispered. "I won't stand in your way." With that, he snuggled forward, tucked his head under Thorin's chin, and went back to sleep.

He woke up later to the feel of Thorin's hands stroking softly up and down his back, Thorin's deep voice rumbling just too low for him to catch. He tried to pull away a bit, to ask Thorin to repeat himself, but as soon as he moved, Thorin stopped talking. Awake, Thorin's face was lined and tense, but when he caught Bilbo's eyes, he smiled.

Bilbo's heart clenched; Thorin's smile was soft and wide, his eyes held nothing but warmth. _Oh god, I'm in love with him._ Bilbo's expression must have shown some of his sudden shock, because Thorin leaned back, brows drawing together.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Bilbo shook his head, thinking that he'd deal with his inconvenient emotions later, and smiled up at Thorin. "Nothing," he said. "Just waking up. What time is it?"

Thorin went back to stroking his back and threw a leg over Bilbo's hips. "Dunno. It's still dark, whenever it is." 

"No clock?" Bilbo squirmed a bit closer; he enjoyed the way Thorin's chest felt against his, and he wouldn't pass up a chance to do a bit of stroking of his own.

"No. When I'm home, I don't usually have to be up at any specific time so I've never had an alarm clock in here. I use my phone, if I need to get up on time for something." He bent a little and nosed at Bilbo's ear, making him suck in a breath and tilt his head.

"Mmm, that's nice." Bilbo ran his hand along Thorin's arm, then sank his fingers into his hair. It was warm and felt heavy in his hand. Thorin shivered slightly.

"Oh, did I hurt you?" Bilbo spread his fingers and started to pull his hand back, but Thorin tipped his head and caught Bilbo's hand between his ear and shoulder.

"No," he said, "quite the opposite." He rubbed the side of his head along Bilbo's palm, making Bilbo think of a giant cat asking to be petted. With a smile, Bilbo pushed his fingers back where they'd been and wiggled a bit until he could get both hands into Thorin's hair. He began rubbing and gently scratching Thorin's scalp. 

Thorin melted; his hands stopped moving on Bilbo's back and his whole body just collapsed. He tipped his head back and forth, with Bilbo trying to figure out where Thorin wanted rubbing next. "You like this?"

Thorin moaned. Then he startled, his body jerking, and he pulled Bilbo as close as he could get him. "I like everything you do," he said, and bit Bilbo's ear lobe.

Bilbo's breath caught at the spike of pleasure that ran from his ear down his spine. He tried to say something, but Thorin pinched one nipple and moved his mouth to the soft spot behind Bilbo's ear and all Bilbo could do was gasp and hold onto Thorin's shoulders. 

Bilbo grew increasingly dizzy at Thorin's assault on his nerve endings; every time Bilbo thought he'd reached a plateau of sensation, Thorin found something new to do to him, some new part of his body which Bilbo had never known was capable of arousal. It felt as if he were being un-done slowly, having every part of his body touched and every nerve ending stroked until he couldn't feel anything except Thorin's hands on him, his mouth on his skin, his hair – cool and silky – streaming over his body. 

Finally the storm of sensation pooled in his hips and he blinked his eyes open. All he saw was darkness; moaning sounds overlaid by higher, breathy whines and short, sharp cries echoed around him. His eyes caught on movement and he saw Thorin, bent over his cock, the fingers of one hand rubbing deep between his ass cheeks. Thorin's lips were tight around the head of Bilbo's cock and his second hand was rubbing Bilbo's nipple. 

Bilbo caught Thorin's nearer wrist and pulled his hand to his face, sucking first one, then two fingers into his mouth. Thorin twitched and moaned around Bilbo's cock, making him whimper. 

Bilbo felt Thorin pull up; the wet popping sound his mouth made as he slid off the head of Bilbo's cock was deliciously obscene. Thorin looked up at Bilbo and licked his lips.

"You taste wonderful," he said. Bilbo stared down at him, dazed. After a short second, Thorin smiled; it looked hungry and predatory, making Bilbo shiver. Thorin rubbed his fingers again between Bilbo's cheeks, and whispered, "I'd love to do more, if you'd like."

Bilbo couldn't tell what sound he made, but Thorin's expression flickered between something so soft and warm and the hunger he'd shown before that Bilbo shivered again. 

"You make me feel so good," Thorin said. He reached for something, and Bilbo let his head fall back against the bed as Thorin's hand, now cool and slick, rubbed in gentle circles before slowly sinking into him. 

Bilbo lost himself to the building pleasure – Thorin's touch was just the right combination of firm and gentle and even though Bilbo intended to try to reciprocate, within a short time, he couldn't concentrate on anything other than the waves of pleasure rolling through his body. 

The next time he could concentrate on anything outside his skin and the amazing things Thorin was doing to him, Thorin knelt between his legs, one hand gently stroking Bilbo's cock, and the other pressing the head of his own cock to Bilbo's ass. He pushed in slowly and Bilbo felt heat spreading from his hips throughout his body like a wave of electricity. 

After a moment during which Thorin was bent over Bilbo's body, his hands gripping Bilbo's hips so hard Bilbo looked forward to seeing the bruises in the morning and his hair spilling over Bilbo's chest, Thorin pulled back and began moving. He slid gently out, and Bilbo moaned at the sensation; he could feel every single movement in his entire body. 

He locked his ankles behind Thorin's hips and begged Thorin to fuck him harder; he wanted to feel this way forever. He could hear Thorin's voice, normally so smooth and deep, hoarse and rough and the need in it made his own need grow. 

He could tell that his sudden realization of how deeply he felt for Thorin made this more pleasurable, and as he felt his extacy peak, he only just managed to bite his lips together to stop himself from crying out his love for Thorin. Thorin finished a few strokes after Bilbo did; he bent forward and captured Bilbo's lips with his and the feeling of Thorin's tongue and lips against his mixed with the short jerky movements of Thorin's hips made Bilbo's cock twitch in an attempt to have a second orgasm. 

They lay tangled together for several minutes, then Thorin rolled off of Bilbo. "Sorry," he muttered, "I know I’m heavy." 

Bilbo groaned a little, straightening his legs and reaching for Thorin at the same time. "Don't be. I love … I love the way you feel on me."

Thorin threw an arm over Bilbo's chest and buried his head in the curve of his shoulder. "I'll get up in a second and clean us up." 

"I'm in no hurry," Bilbo said, pressing his cheek to the top of Thorin's head. "This is perfect."

***

Later that morning, Bilbo trotted downstairs after taking what felt like the world's longest shower. He hadn't intended anything except a regular shower, but then he'd stepped into the large, open showering area in Thorin's bathroom. There were five jets, two in the ceiling, each pointing in a slightly different direction, and three in the walls. Together they made an exquisitely decadent shower and Bilbo didn't realize how long he'd spent under the water until he got out and checked his phone for the time. 

"Hey," he said as he entered the kitchen. Thorin was at the stove, poking at a pan of thick cut, meaty bacon. He looked up and smiled.

"Did you have a nice shower?" He turned and held his arms open and Bilbo stepped into them, hugging him hard, deliberately not thinking about anything other than how nice this felt and how good the bacon smelled.

"I did," Bilbo said into Thorin's chest. "Your shower is amazing." Thorin laughed and Bilbo could feel the rumble of it through his forehead, which was pressed against Thorin's chest. "I see you've got bacon there," he said, pulling back a bit. 

"Oh!" Thorin turned back to the pan, quickly turning the bacon over. "Yeah. There's french toast waiting in the warming oven as well, and coffee over there in the pot."

Bilbo smiled up at him. "Coffee, drink of the gods." He went to the pot and looked at the cups on a tray next to the coffee maker. There were six mugs, each different. Several looked hand-made, and one seemed to have been painted by a small child. He smiled at them and chose one with a handle sculpted to look like a small gargoyle. "Want a cup?"

Thorin shook his head. "Nah, I've got mine already." He pointed to a little table Bilbo hadn't seen the night before, in front of tall glass doors which led to a small tiled terrace. "Go on over there and sit down. I'll come with breakfast in a minute." 

Bilbo turned to offer to help, but Thorin just waved his hands at him in a shooing motion, so Bilbo shrugged and stepped to the window, the kitchen tiles cool against his bare feet. There were several large trees shading the terrace; one of them was a mature fruit tree, heavy with lemons and oranges. _It looks like a wonderful place to have lunch in summer._

Breakfast itself was light hearted. Thorin had real maple syrup from a shop in New Hampshire and Bilbo ate nearly all of the first batch of french toast. When he tried to apologize, Thorin just beamed at him and said that he was pleased Bilbo liked his cooking.

After breakfast, they wandered to the living room, where they sat on the same couch as the night before. This time, Thorin leaned back against the arm of the couch and Bilbo leaned back against him. 

"So, what's the plan for this holiday shindig?" Bilbo asked, sipping his coffee. 

"Usually people come over in the afternoon and we just hang out. It's a good time to catch up, especially if we've been on tour or when the boys were in school." Thorin leaned sideways, reaching for his phone. They tilted precariously, but then Thorin snatched it up and leaned back again, making sure Bilbo didn't slip off the couch. "Let me just text Gloin about when he wants to come over. I've seen him play, if we let him, he'll play that silly game all day and then the kids'll never get to eat."

Bilbo laughed. "Oh, you'll have a hard time prying Pippin off the food, even if there's gaming to do. I'll let you know if they can come, but I don't expect their parents will refuse. Anything to get them out of the house for a day while they're off school."

They settled down and sat silently for a few minutes. Thorin was texting with one hand while his other hand stroked gently up and down the center of Bilbo's chest. 

"Thorin," Bilbo said when Thorin was done with his phone. "Why does Azog attack you? I've read through some of his archives and yeah, he's clearly an asshole, but he is particularly vicious about you. I don't get it."

Bilbo felt Thorin stiffen behind him. His hand stopped moving and spread out, pressing against Bilbo's sternum. "He's just a prick who can't let go." 

"Can't you sue him or something?"

Thorin shrugged. "He hasn't exactly lied about anything, just said leading things and been deliberately mean. I've had my lawyers look at it – they're always watching him, in fact – but he doesn't cross into anything like libel or slander. He's just always skating close." 

Bilbo stared into his coffee cup. "Then there's nothing I can do about the pictures, huh? I mean, the campus is open to the public, so whoever he's got taking the pictures hasn't broken any laws." 

"I'm so sorry," Thorin said, his face buried in Bilbo's hair. 

Bilbo sighed. "It's okay. I mean, it's not like he's stalking Frodo or something. I guess I just hadn't expected something like this."


	36. Thirty Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo talks things through with a few people.

Thirty Six

Bilbo spent the next day distractedly doing household chores. He stuck a brisket in the slow cooker in the morning, spent some time cleaning up the accumulated clutter in the house, swept up the leaves in the back yard, sat in front of his computer and failed to get any writing done, then finally wandered back to the kitchen to start baking things to bring to Thorin's Christmas party.

Late that afternoon, the mail carrier rang his doorbell. 

"Here's your mail, Professor," she said brightly, then turned away, saying over her shoulder, "Don't go far. I got something else for you, but it's big."

Bilbo glanced down at the envelopes in his hand and winced. The one on top was thick and creamy and addressed in perfect copperplate to Mr Bilbo Baggins with Lobelia's mother's return address. He sighed. 

"Here you go," the mail carrier said. She was pulling a Radio Flyer wagon with a huge box in it. 

"A wagon, Verniqua?" Bilbo laughed, and she grinned at him. 

"Well, the holidays are here and I don't see no reason to drag that shit around by hand. My back would give out." She shrugged, still smiling. "And it comes in handy for things like this. This from your family on the boat?"

He leaned forward and ran a finger over the bewildering array of stamps. "Looks like it. I wonder what they've sent." He tried to lift it and grunted, dropping it back in the wagon. "I see your point. How'd you get it in your truck?"

She beamed at him. "The young guys at the station like to show off." 

Bilbo laughed. "Good idea. I'll get my teenagers on it. Want to come in for a cup of coffee while we wait for them to materialize?"

After texting Frodo to bring Sam and anyone else he was hanging out with at Sam's house, Bilbo brought Verniqua a cup of coffee and a plate of some of the cookies he'd baked. 

"Thanks," she said. "How's the writing going?" 

He started to answer, then interrupted himself to point Sam and Merry to the front door with directions to bring the box carefully to the kitchen, and to shut the door behind them. "And no funny business with Verniqua's wagon," he shouted after them. 

He and Verniqua sat and chatted while Frodo and his friends disembowelled the box onto the kitchen table, carefully preserving the stamps. They pulled out several large books, a set of carved faces with twisted expressions, a wooden humpback whale carved carefully to allow the wood's changing color to simulate the different colors of the whale, and several fans. 

Bilbo turned to Verniqua, smiling. "They'll be emptying that for the next hour. How're you?"

They chatted companionably until the box had been divested of all its contents, then she left with a brightly colored piece of Samoan money tucked in her pocket and a ziplock bag filled with cookies in her hand. 

After dinner and making the kids bring the pile of loot to the living room before they stormed off to Frodo's room, Bilbo sat in the kitchen with Lobelia's envelope in front of himself. He sighed and ripped it open.

PRIMROSE AND BLANCO BRACEGIRDLE CORDIALLY INVITE YOU TO THE WEDDING OF THEIR DAUGHTER LOBELIA BRACEGIRDLE TO OTHO SACKVILLE-BAGGINS 

There was a small handwritten note inside, requesting Bilbo bring 'someone respectable' as his guest. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, then jumped at the sound of his phone ringing in his office.

"Hey, mom," he said, slightly breathless from running down the hall. "How's Dad? How're you?"

"We're fine, dear. I just wanted to check in. We haven't heard from you in a few days." She sounded comfortable and Bilbo sank back into his favorite armchair; he could already feel his shoulders relaxing.

"I was, um. I was at Thorin's for a couple of days. I met his sister – she's very nice." He could hear Bella's knitting needles through the phone and smiled to himself. "Finishing up last minute gifts?"

"Oh fie," she said, "I've got all those done ages ago. I'm working on something for Lobelia now."

He snorted. "You're a better man than I, Gunga Din. I'm going to buy something from their damned registry and forget about it."

"Bungo thought you'd get the invitation today. What did your note say?"

"I've been instructed to bring 'someone respectable'," he said, then started laughing when she did. "I've half a mind to bring the dean of our department – you know him, Gandalf Sijed." 

"Oh," she cried, "I'd forgotten he'd settled at your school. Yes, actually, bring him as well as Thorin." There was a short pause and she asked, "How is Thorin, by the by?"

All of a sudden, all the things he'd been deliberately not thinking about all day crashed through his head. "He's fine. He's … there's something going on with him and some guy online."

Her silence sounded sharp and he tried again. "I mean, there's this guy – did you know there are people who spend their whole lives being mean to celebrities? Sure, I knew about crazed fans and people who set up fan sites and go to all the shows and stuff, and those, what are they called? Cosplayers, who dress up as characters, but." He ran a hand through his hair. "There's a whole subset of people who spend their time saying vicious things online about celebrities."

"And about people who those celebrities spend time with?" She didn't sound surprised.

"You did know." He pressed his lips together. "So, there's this guy, Azog, has a late night TV show and website called Gundabad. For some reason he hates Thorin. He says the most amazingly awful things about him and about the people he's been in relationships with."

"So what's he said about you?" Her voice, warm and caring, made him feel like a child again, safe where his mother would protect him. 

"Oh, nothing too bad, really. He said I was fat and ugly and that I'm a lot older than the other people Thorin's dated, which I very well knew, thank you very much." He shrugged at Bella's clucked tongue. "Oh, compared to what he's said about other people, that was positively kind. Just …" 

"Just?" She sounded curious, but not upset, which calmed him.

"He said things about Thorin never settling down, that he's only in a relationship with me because he can show off. And Thorin hasn't said anything about anything long term, but –" He sighed. 

"But no one spends as much time as he did picking out exactly the right presents for the parents of someone they're not hoping to spend a long time with. And honestly, Bilbo," she sounded very certain. "It's obvious how he feels about you in the way he looks at you."

Bilbo's breath caught and he coughed. "I … yeah. I'll have to figure out how to deal with Azog, though. I asked Thorin about him and he said he was friends with him… wait, first that they'd grown up as acquaintances, but became friends in college and then something happened and they stopped being friends and now Azog hates him."

Bella hummed in thought. "That sounds complicated. I wonder if that's all there was to it."

"I'm not sure, but it's what Thorin said." Bilbo tucked his feet under him and sighed. "And I've got to figure out how to get all of Frodo's pack of monsters to Thorin's house for this party he's having. I got them to the show in the summer, but now he's got Rosie as well, and I've asked Ori to come along, and there's no way I can fit them all in my car. It was borderline to have the four boys."

She laughed. "You'll figure something out. Maybe you could rent a bus!"

He smiled, then sat up straight when he saw the carved humpback whale on the coffee table. "Oh, and Mom, I nearly forgot. We got a giant box from Prim and Drogo. I'm sure there are things in it for you and Dad as well. One of the books looked like an art book."

She exclaimed in pleasure. After a few more minutes of discussion, she hung up. He sat, leaning back in the chair and staring at the table. Deathless was glowering at the whale, as if asking why it wasn't in the water where it belonged. 

"Come on, you silly old Dwarf," Bilbo said, scooping him up and dropping him in the breast pocket of his shirt. "Let's get to bed. Things'll look better in the morning."

The next morning, Bilbo felt better. He called Thorin after breakfast and asked if he knew how many kids Bilbo was bringing. 

"Only," Bilbo said, "there are eight of us and my car only legally seats five."

Thorin chuckled. "Well, you could put the two troublemakers in the trunk, right?"

"That might be the only way to keep them out of trouble, good point." Bilbo moved another stack of cookies to a plastic container and covered them with a paper towel before closing the lid. "I'm not sure it's entirely legal, though."

"I'll send Fili along with the BMW M6. The kids'll love it and Fili loves to drive it."

"Oh! I hadn't meant…" 

Thorin laughed. "No, really, Fili honestly loves to drive it. He'll be thrilled with the excuse to take it around all the curvy streets here, and I'm sure … what're their names, Merry and Pippin? They'll have a great time."

Bilbo chuckled. "If you say so. I guess I've always been more interested in what makes them go than the actual machines."

Thorin gasped, theatrically. "Shocking." He paused for a moment and Bilbo tried to make sense of the clatter in the background. "So, I was talking to Dis and she wanted to know if your parents would like to come? She'd love to meet them, and, well, you'll have to meet my father, so it seems fair."

Bilbo sat down slowly. "I … I can ask them. I'm pretty sure they're free."

"Well, they're entirely welcome. I'd love to see them again – I can ask your mother if she's painted me as a raven yet."

Bilbo started laughing. "Oh, she'll probably have a hundred pictures on her phone."

"It's settled, then." The loud sounds behind Thorin dropped off. "So, I was thinking, there's usually some sort of present exchange at this, but you're exempt from that, of course. I wanted to tell you in advance, though, so you weren't surprised when you get a pile of inappropriate gifts."

Bilbo blinked. "Inappropriate?"

"Yeah. We all grew up together, so once we got too old for the whole Waiting Up For Santa thing, we started giving each other ridiculous presents. Tacky t-shirts and stuff. I think Kili's given his mother a chintzy snow globe from a different state every year. I don't know what he'll give her this year, we didn't go to any new states on tour."

Bilbo chuckled. "Ah, I see. I'd thought to just bring baked stuff, but I can certainly try to find appropriately silly gifts by the party. How many people will be there?"

"Oh no, I really mean that you don't have to. It's short notice and you'll probably only get a couple of things. Reasonable things, I'm sure."

Bilbo thought of the package he had upstairs, carefully wrapped, and smiled. "I'd be delighted to participate. My family specializes in slightly odd gifts."

Three days later, Bilbo opened his front door to a smiling Fili. 

"Nice view," Fili said. 

"Thanks," Bilbo said, stepping back to let Fili come into the house. "I think we're mostly ready. I've got my stuff packed into my car and the kids are just now wrangling over who gets to go with you."

Fili grinned broadly. "Good car, huh?" At Bilbo's shrug, he laughed. "Thorin said you're not a car person." He peeked into the kitchen and snorted. "I thought you said you'd packed everything? Aren't you bringing any of these?" He gestured at the pile of plastic containers of cookies.

Bilbo laughed at him. "I've got as many containers in the car, but if you want a package just for you, I can certainly give you some. Hang on." 

"Oh no," Fili said, while nodding vigorously. "I'd hate to put you out. Although, it'll be a good way to put Kili's nose out of joint when he sees I've got your cookies and he doesn't."

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, but filled a small container and handed it over. They could hear the kids laughing down the hall.

"Actually, while we've got a moment," Fili said, sitting down at the kitchen table, "there's something I'd like to talk to you about."

Bilbo felt the back of his neck prickle. "Yes?" He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.

"Thorin didn't say anything, but Kili and I – and Dwalin – keep an eye on Azog. We saw that he's targeted you. Look –" He broke off. His lips compressed and his usual laughing expression fell off his face, revealing a harder, more adult one. 

"I know that it can be confusing, to be in a relationship with a rock star – with anyone famous. Everyone thinks it's nothing but fast cars and fancy vacations, but there's a lot more to it. Thorin's had a harder time than some, with Azog being such a fucking bulldog about his personal life." Fili paused. "Did he tell you anything about Azog?"

"Yes, in fact. He told me all about it." 

Fili's face bloomed with pleased surprise. "Well. He did? That's … that's great. Thorin's not so good with subtle, but he's really shit at talking about things, you'll have to help him with that." Fili tipped the chair back on two legs, beaming at Bilbo. "Great. And you don't have any problem with it?"

"With them not being friends any more?" Bilbo asked. "Why would I want him to still be friends with someone who so clearly hates him?"

Fili looked a bit uncertain, but then Merry ploughed into the kitchen, yelling with triumph. 

"I'm going with you, Mr Fili. Me and Pip, and Rosie, but I don't know what _she'll_ get out of it."

"I know it has a 4.4 liter V8 engine, with a minimum of 560 horsepower and does zero to sixty in about 4.2 seconds, which is more than you do," she snapped, in the kitchen door. "And that if he's got the 6 speed manual gearbox it'll sound terrific." 

Fili had brought his hand up to cover his mouth. "She gets the front seat, I think," he said, through his laughter.


	37. Thirty Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the party begins, including a long overdue conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unrelated to the story (sort of), I just saw this article about Brian May, who's the guitarist from Queen, discussing Pluto. He's a well-known astrophysicist. :D
> 
> [Brian May](http://www.ctvnews.ca/sci-tech/queen-guitarist-and-astrophysicist-brian-may-helps-pluto-team-examine-data-1.2475104)

When Bilbo pulled into the parking courtyard in front of Thorin's house, Fili was only just getting out of his car.

"What took you so long?" Bilbo asked, as he got out of his car. "You left nearly half an hour before we did."

"Oh my god, guys, you have no idea," shouted Rosie, who streaked past Bilbo and Ori and thumped into Sam's chest, knocking him back about two feet. She beamed up at him and waved a hand frantically at Frodo. "It's so fucking cool, it goes around corners like nothing else I've been in and he even let me drive it a little." She twisted to look at Bilbo. "Only a little, really, and I didn't drive fast at all, promise, but…" she turned back to her boys. "Seriously, it was amazing. You have to try it."

Fili was laughing, but when Bilbo caught his eye, he said, "Oh, there's a straight bit with no traffic just down the street a bit and I let her drive it there. It's a couple of hundred yards or so, nothing too scary. And she's what, seventeen? She's well old enough."

Bilbo just shook his head. "I was just surprised you'd let a teenager drive something so expensive." He shrugged, then turned to the back of his own car to pull out the things he'd brought. Before he or Ori had a chance to reach in for the first of the containers, Fili had materialized next to them. 

"Here," he said, looking bright eyed, "let me help you with that. These are pies, right?" 

Bilbo chuckled. "Yes, but they're for everyone." 

Another car pulled up and Bungo leaned out the window. "Bilbo! We weren't sure we'd made the last two turns correctly, but it looks like we did. Where should we park?"

Fili leaned forward, smiling. "Put it anywhere and come on in." He stood back up and glanced over his shoulder at the house. "I'm surprised Thorin's not out here yet."

Bilbo hitched a bag over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

"Oh, he'll –" 

"Bilbo, will you come and help your father?" Bella sounded exasperated.

"I'll help!" Ori said, hooking his satchel across his chest and trotting towards her. Kili materialized next to Fili; Bella's call made him turn away from his attempted theft of Fili's burden and he bounded over to Bella. "You're Bilbo's mom? Hi, I’m Kili, Thorin's nephew. What's in this box?" He rapidly piled the boxes Ori hadn't had a chance to pick up from the back seat of their car and tried to peek into the top one.

She grinned at him. "Never you mind, young man. You'll find out soon enough." Beside her, Bungo locked the car and picked up a paper bag of his own. "It's so lovely to have such nice young men to help." 

"Come on," Fili called, "or we'll miss everything." Bilbo laughed as he and Kili led the way into the house through a door to the side of the garages which led to a narrow hallway with stairs at the end. 

On the way to the living room, Bilbo introduced Ori to Kili and Fili. They both beamed and Kili said, "Oh, we've heard lots about you." When Ori raised a brow, Fili chuckled. "Dori tells us stuff from your emails while we're on tour." 

Ori's expression cleared and he laughed. "You're the troublemakers, then," he said, voice tart and eyes dancing.

Fili burst out laughing as Kili tried to look affronted. "Us," he said. "Never." 

They pushed open the door at the top of the stairs and came out into a short corridor filled with the sounds of people laughing from further on. Just around the corner and down a few steps was the living room.

It was heaving with people. Bilbo stopped in the doorway and stared, trying to make sense of the scene. Fili and Kili charged ahead, still bickering happily; Bilbo could see Ori trailing along in their wake, carrying his boxes in front of himself like a shield. Bilbo's parents stopped as well, coming up to stand next to him.

After a second, the mass of people coalesced into familiar faces and he laughed under his breath. "Okay," he said. "Those scamps were Fili and Kili, Fili's the blond. That group there," he pointed to the group of laughing men in front of the fireplace, "those are uh, Bifur, he's the one with the grey and black hair, and the large guy's his … cousin, I think. He's the great chef I told you about. Bombur, right, and his brother's…" Bilbo looked around but couldn't see the only thing he remembered about Bofur, which was the magnificent hat. "He's probably here somewhere." 

He was about to point to another group and try to tell his parents about them when Thorin stepped out of the kitchen. He looked across the room at Bilbo and smiled tentatively. Bilbo's heart squeezed and he felt his doubts and concerns melt away like late morning mist. 

"And there's Thorin," said Bungo. "He looks happy to see you."

"He does," Bilbo said, and started across the room to him. When he got there, Thorin's arms were held out and he just stepped into them, wrapping his one free arm around Thorin's waist. _Whatever happens, has happened, it doesn't matter. We'll figure things out together._

"Hullo Bella, Bungo," Thorin rumbled above his head. "Welcome to my home. Would you like something to drink?"

Bilbo pulled back. "Hey, what about me?"

Thorin peered down at him. "You know where everything is already – you can just get what you want." He glanced at Bilbo's bag. "What's in there? And what were my nephews carrying?"

In the kitchen, Bilbo and his parents started opening their containers. Bilbo turned to look for a place to start unpacking _to_ when he realized that the doorway back to the living room was blocked by curious faces. 

"Let me _through_ ," came a sharp voice and Dis pushed through the crowd. "You must be Bilbo's parents. I'm Dis, Thorin's sister. It's lovely to meet you. Let my sons do that for you – no need for you to do any work. Shall I get you some wine? Beer? Juice?"

Bella caught Dis' eye and Bilbo saw Thorin's expression flicker with sudden anxiety, which made him snort. 

Bungo smiled at Dis and said, "Thank you. Wine if you've got a white. I'm Bungo, it's very nice to meet you." The three of them moved off and Bilbo started chuckling. 

"So, Bilbo," said Bombur, from the doorway, "How have you been?"

Bilbo looked at him, then grinned. "I've been well, thank you. I've something for you, hang on a tic." He rummaged around in the bag he'd been carrying, then handed over a large bottle with a wax seal on the mouth. The liquid inside glowed a peachy-orange color.

Bombur's face lit. "You remembered!" He took the bottle carefully and tipped it from side to side, watching the way the liquid moved. "What flavor is it?"

Next to him, a man with a smiling face and two long brown braids flicked a finger against the glass. "How come you get gifts and I don't?" he asked.

Bilbo blinked. "Where's your hat?" 

Everyone in the room, including Bofur, laughed. "I left it in t'other room, but I can get it if you'd prefer."

"No," Bilbo smiled, "just I hadn't recognized you." He'd finished pulling things out of his bags, with Kili and Ori's help, and stood back, dusting his hands off on his hips. "Oh, thank you," he said to Thorin as he took the glass of wine he offered him. Then he turned back to Bofur. "Your brother's getting this because I mentioned it when I met him and he seemed interested. It's the last of the batch from three years ago – peach, I think it was that year. Let's open it."

Bilbo stood back and watched as his new friends passed the bottle around, sniffing the now-open mouth. "I'd be careful, though," he said. "It's stronger than you might think." 

Bombur poured a small tumbler of it and, in response to Dwalin's disappointed humph, said, "It's my gift and I’m not pouring it down your ungrateful throat. Don't think I've forgotten the case of brandy." He took a sip, then, eyes very wide, passed the tumbler to Thorin, who sipped from it and coughed, passing it on to the next person waiting.

Bilbo beamed. "Like it?"

Thorin coughed again, then said, slightly hoarse, "It's great, but, uh…" 

Bofur handed the tumbler to Fili and said, "I'll take a bottle, next time you've got one handy. Tha's amazing, that is." He licked his lips. "How'd you get it so smooth?"

After that, the party swung back into action – Bilbo and Thorin added his dishes to the tables that had been set along the back wall of the living room and sat down to eat and chat. Across the room, Bilbo could see Frodo and his friends at a table with Gloin and Gimli and Legolas all talking loudly and happily. He grinned at Thorin and pointed them out.

When they'd finished their first plates and brought them into the kitchen for washing, Bilbo said, "So, there's something I wanted to talk to you about. Is there someplace –" He broke off as a woman he didn't know came through the kitchen holding the hand of a little girl. 

"H'lo Uncle Thorn," the little girl piped, "H'ppy C'ismas." Her mother swung her up onto her hip and thrust her towards the sink. 

"Wash your hands, love, and I'll get you some of the nice pie you wanted." She glanced at Bilbo and Thorin, who'd helpfully started washing his own hands with the girl. "I think it's your pie, actually," she said, moving towards the tea towel hanging from the fridge door. "That crust work is lovely, you must tell me how you made the birds." 

After they swept back out of the room, Thorin turned back to Bilbo. His expression was pensive. "You wanted to talk to me? Let's go outside."

They went out through the glass doors to the patio Bilbo had looked at. Bilbo pulled out one of the chairs from the table and gently shoved Thorin into it. Thorin looked increasingly tense, but willingly wrapped his arms around Bilbo's waist as he stepped between Thorin's knees. 

He ran a hand over Thorin's cheek and pushed his fingers deep into the warmth of his hair, then tipped his chin up. "Come here, you," he murmured and bent to kiss him. 

Thorin immediately opened his mouth, kissing him with a passion and ardor he hadn't expected. For several minutes, he lost himself in the feeling, but then remembered what he'd wanted to do and, reluctantly, pulled back. Thorin's lips followed his for a second but then he leaned back as well. 

"I've been thinking about you and me, and about Azog," Bilbo started and felt Thorin's whole body go rigid. "No," Bilbo said, "hear me out." When Thorin's shoulders had relaxed a little, Bilbo nodded and continued. "The thing is, what upset me most wasn't the stuff about how I look. I know I'm no supermodel and can't compete with the cute young men you normally date."

Thorin opened his mouth, but Bilbo pressed his fingers to Thorin's lips. "It's honestly okay. That wasn't the part that made me unhappy. What _did_ make me worried was that he said that you're only seeing me because you like to show off and that I'd be more … impressable because I'm not part of the "Hollywood" scene."

"I'm _not_ just –" Thorin started angrily, but stopped when Bilbo cupped his hand over his mouth. 

"The thing is, Thorin, I'd like to make this last. I want to be with you. I want to …" He paused, suddenly desperately uncertain as he heard himself saying this out loud. _I should have worked on a script for this or something._ "I want to try to make this work forever. I love you."

Thorin stared at him, eyes wide. Bilbo took his hand off of Thorin's mouth, but he didn't say anything, just stared at him, eyes flicking back and forth between Bilbo's, then down to his mouth. Suddenly, he pulled Bilbo closer, kissing him like he was drowning. One arm snaked around Bilbo; the fingers of that hand dug into Bilbo's waist so hard they pinched. Thorin's other hand came up to Bilbo's face and gently cradled his cheek. 

With a groan, Thorin dragged his mouth from Bilbo's. "I love you," he croaked, "I've loved you practically from the first time I saw you, I just didn't know it. Please, Bilbo, I’m so sorry about my past, about Azog and all those people I was involved with. They didn't matter to me – they _don't_ matter to me." 

He tightened his arms around Bilbo again and buried his face in the curve of Bilbo's neck. Bilbo leaned into his warmth and closed his eyes, feeling the happiness fill his body. 

There was a sound and he glanced up. Fili and Kili were pressed against the glass door; Kili was half bent-over, his ear pressed to the little gap Bilbo and Thorin had left when they came outside. The sound Bilbo had heard was Kili shouting to someone standing further back in the room. 

Fili gave Bilbo a giant thumbs-up and looked down at Kili, who was still talking to someone Bilbo couldn't see. Fili casually hooked his foot under Kili's bent knee and tipped him over backward, then pointed at Bilbo when Kili demanded to know why he'd done that. Kili looked through the window and gave Bilbo a huge, beaming grin.

Thorin's shoulders were shaking and, for a second, Bilbo was afraid something was wrong, but then Thorin tipped his face back. He was laughing so hard he could barely speak. "My nephews?" he gasped out.

"Uh huh. They're very discreet. I think Kili was giving a blow by blow description for everyone else." Bilbo pressed another kiss to Thorin's lips. "Let's go inside. I'm freezing."


	38. Thirty Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What a nice party!

Bilbo and Thorin came back in to widespread applause, which made Thorin turn an interesting shade of red and hide in the kitchen for the next quarter of an hour. Bilbo sat at the table to wait with him, but Thorin shrugged and told him to go out and join the party. 

At the dessert table, Bilbo found Dwalin, his plate filled with a precariously high stack of cookies. He smirked at Bilbo, who just laughed.

"I made linzer cookies," Bilbo said, pointing to the container he'd tucked into the last available corner. Dwalin's eyes lit and he grabbed three, carrying them in his hand under his plate.

"Thanks," he said. "Thorin wouldn't share." They stood in silence for a minute, watching the groups in the rest of the room. Then Dwalin brushed the crumbs off his beard and continued. "It's good that you're committing. Thorin's had enough bad luck." He patted Bilbo on the back and wandered off. 

Bilbo blinked a couple of times, then shook his head. _I don't know that I'll ever figure this family out._ He slid a piece of sweet potato pie onto his plate, next to the slice of lemon meringue towering over a small pile of chocolate brandy balls and a pair of cookies made to look like chocolate covered cherries. _That looks good. Now,_ he glanced around the room, _let's find a place to sit. I wonder if there's going to be coffee._

He turned to look at the other tables for coffee and caught Dis' eye. She was sitting nearby with his parents; they were on the couch he and Thorin had been on when they'd discussed Azog. Bella turned at Dis' smile and her beaming face brought Bilbo over.

"Hullo," he said brightly, edging his plate onto the overcrowded table. 

"Your parents are lovely," Dis said, leaning back against the arm of her overstuffed chair. "I used to read your mother's books to my children. They'll be very excited when they find out." 

Bella laughed. "I asked your brother to pose for me – I thought he'd make a wonderful addition to the books. Maybe a raven?" Next to her, Bungo smiled at Bilbo. 

Dis laughed. "Oh, that's perfect. He can brood off in the corner, maybe under one of the pine trees? And the little frog, what's his name again?" She twisted in her seat and looked over the room. "Fili, come here. There's someone you should meet."

Bilbo finished the lemon meringue pie as Fili came over and wedged himself into Bilbo's armchair. When he made a protesting noise, Fili grinned at him. 

"You're part of the family now, you'll have to get used to being sat on." 

"Get your own," Thorin said from behind Bilbo's chair and Fili stood up, laughing. He bowed deeply and Thorin came around Bilbo's chair, carrying a tray with cups of coffee. "I thought you might want this," he said, handing the first cup to Bilbo, then looking sadly at the table, which was too full for him to put the tray down.

Fili jumped and clattered the empty plates into a pile. "Here," he said brightly, "I'll be right back." As he left, arms full of dirty plates and cups, Thorin perched on the arm of Bilbo's chair. 

Bilbo shook his head, smiling. He stood up. "Sit down."

When Thorin objected, Bungo shook his head. "You'll never wear him down, you know. Might as well get used to doing what you're told." 

To Bilbo's confusion, Thorin brightened and immediately sat down. Bilbo promptly sat on his lap and offered him a brandy ball, studiously ignoring Dis' snort of laughter. Just then, Fili came back and sat on the arm of his mother's chair.

"What'cha want me for?" 

Dis smiled up at him. "What's the name of that frog book series you and your brother loved?"

"OH, the one with the toad and the peach and the pond and stuff? Why?" Fili slid sideways until he was leaning on his mother, who just shoved at him until he was seated across the chair, not quite in her lap.

"Because," Bella said, "those are my books." 

Fili's head snapped up and he stared at her, mouth open. Bilbo could suddenly see the little boy he'd been and his breath caught. He could see Dis' expression and was struck by how young she was herself. 

"KILI," Fili shouted. "Oh wow, Bilbo's mom, that's amazing, really? Did you make them all up? How did you think of the Kingfisher and her –"

"What'd you want?" Kili dropped onto the arm of Bilbo's chair, his arm wrapped tightly around the waist of a tall woman. Bilbo looked up and grinned. 

"Hi, Tauriel," he said. "Fancy meeting you here."

She laughed down at him, eyes sparkling. "Good to see you. How's the writing getting on?"

Bilbo groaned. "Oh dear, does everyone know now?"

Tauriel leaned down and put her face close to his and Thorin's. "I knew the day you two met in my office." Her face was filled with mischief. Thorin snorted. 

"Wait, what?" Kili's voice was very excited. "Hang on. I've got them all on my shelf at home, can I go get them?" He'd let go of Tauriel and had sunk down to his knees next to Fili, who still looked a little overwhelmed. Across from them, Bella was laughing. 

"I've got a better idea," she said. "I'm thinking of adding a new family to the pond. Would you and your brother like to – "

"What about me?" Thorin asked, sounding aggrieved, but barely audible over Fili and Kili's shouts. Bilbo caught his father's eye and started laughing himself.

A little bit later, after the boys had run off, trailing an amused Tauriel, to get their childhood copies of Bella's books from their bookshelves, Bilbo and Thorin brought their coffee cups and plates back to the kitchen. 

Ori was sitting in the breakfast nook, his knitting out and in a pile in on the table. He glanced up as Bilbo came in, then looked back at his work.

"Getting on okay?" Bilbo asked, sinking into one of the other seats?

Ori nodded, fingers sliding over the stitches on the needle. "One hundred forty five, a hundred fifty. There." He pinched the knitting and looked up. "Yeah, it's good. I was over with Gimli and his boyfriend and your kids, but I needed a quiet place to figure out what's going on with my project." He glared at his yarn. "I think I've lost track of a set of increases."

Bilbo shook his head. "What's it supposed to be?" It was a heavy yarn in a rather plain cream color. 

"Sweater for Nori. It's the traditional knitter's gift, you know." Ori stuck one of the needles through the spot he'd been pinching and rummaged in his bag, finally pulling out the pattern on crumpled paper.

"I, uh. Traditional knitter's gift?" Bilbo's forehead creased. "Like socks?"

"No," Thorin's voice rumbled from behind Bilbo. "It's an unfinished project, in a box with the needles and pattern and the rest of the yarn for the project. Sometimes there's even a nicely drawn IOU."

Bilbo laughed, but Ori nodded seriously. "I could finish it before Christmas – it's a large enough gauge and I've got time – but Nori's gotten used to the traditional method, so I'll finish most of it and pack it all up the night before." He looked up at Thorin. "Do you knit?"

Thorin sat down and stroked the yarn. "My mother did. She never finished my father's sweaters on time. Eventually I think he came to prefer the half-finished versions as the gifts." His smile was soft and Bilbo felt his heart melt. 

"Hey, what'cha doin' in here?" Bofur had come in with a pile of dishes while they weren't paying attention. He bent over the dishwasher and stuck in one last plate, then straightened back up. "I don't remember where you keep the washer tablets, Thorin. Help a guy out?"

Thorin chuckled and stood up, moving to the kitchen. Bofur stepped past him and slapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks!" He dropped into the seat Thorin had left. "Hey," he said, pulling on the free end of Ori's knitting. "Sweater? Cool. What stitch is that?"

Ori pressed the pattern flat. "It's, uh, it's a recreation of a sweater from a television show my brothers and I like." He pushed the pattern across the table to Bofur, who tipped it toward the brighter light from the kitchen to read. 

"Oh!" He shot a look at Ori, then a slow wide grin filled his face. "Big Damn Heros, then, are ya?"

Bilbo watched as Ori's cheeks flushed a darker brown. Bilbo stood up, pushing his chair back. "Well," he said cheerfully, "I'd better check on Frodo. I haven't had a chance to say anything at all to Gimli and so I'm off!" He waved, darted through the kitchen, grabbing Thorin's elbow on his way. "Come on, Thorin, I wouldn't want to miss saying hello to your cousin."

Once they'd made it out of the kitchen, Thorin turned to him. "What's up?" Bilbo peered around him at the door. 

"I think Ori likes Bofur. Is he single?"

Thorin glanced over his shoulder. "I don't know. How old _is_ Ori?"

"He's 25? I'm not sure, but old enough, I'd think. How old is Bofur?"

"My cousin's just gone thirty. Why?" Bifur had come up to them while they were distracted. 

Bilbo stuck his hands in his pockets. "I think my graduate student likes him. Is he single? More to the point, does he like boys?"

Bifur's head tilted. "He is, he does, and who is your graduate student?"

Thorin said, "He's Dori's youngest brother, actually." Both Bilbo and Bifur looked at him, startled. 

"There's another of them?" Bifur exclaimed.

"I think he's one of three," Bilbo said, turning to look at the rest of the room again. "And really, it's none of my business, but…" He shrugged. 

Bifur smiled down at him. "But he's your friend and you're protective." 

Bilbo nodded, then swung around as a rising tide of sound came from the furthest corner of the room. 

"I told you," cried Pippin, his voice triumphant, "you shouldn't have a raiding party made of only one race. It makes you vulnerable." Merry and Rosie were laughing, but Sam just sat with his chin in his hand. Frodo was gathering and sorting something on the table they'd been playing at.

Gloin sat across the table, glowering at the little figurines they'd been using as markers. "I just don't like having to deal with the translation and cultural nonsense. It's so much easier to just run a single race party."

Down the table from him, Gimli and Legolas sat watching. Gimli's broad smile was tipped with a bit of triumph, but Legolas just looked pensive. He bent forward and asked Gimli something, too quietly for Bilbo to hear it. Gimli turned to him, expression changing first to confusion, then to compassion. He shook his head and shrugged, pressing a hand to Legolas' back. 

"Come on, lad," called Gloin, "tell them I'm right. I used to get through all the quests with just dwarves."

Gimli turned back to him and laughed. "Sure dad, but you're wrong. It's never a good idea to have only one type of character. Elves can always do things that dwarves can't, and every party needs a wizard."

Gloin sat back, looking annoyed, but then he leaned forward again. "You play online, right? What game?"

Bilbo had been watching Legolas as Gloin and his father discussed their game. He looked stiff, but then his whole body relaxed as the argument it appeared he was expecting didn't materialize. 

"Well, that's good to see," Bifur said in a low voice. Bilbo looked over at him and saw that he'd also been watching the byplay between Legolas and the un-aware Gimli. Bifur tucked his hands behind his back. "Gimli's friend has always been nervous about how Gimli and his father interact, but he seems to have relaxed a bit."

Thorin sighed. "I saw that. I'd rather worry about Bilbo's student, though."

Bilbo turned to him. "You'll have to tell me about what happened with his father. Is it something Legolas was part of?"

Thorin shrugged. "No, but I still have to work with him. His dad. _Legolas'_ father, I mean. He's got most of the contracts for the events on this coast. And he's a prick."

Bilbo snorted. "Well, I'm willing to believe you. He looked very pretentious when I met him."

Thorin looked at him sharply, and Bilbo could see Bifur rolling his eyes behind him. "When did you meet Thranduil?"

"The same day I met you, of course. Frodo won tickets to the show and we got into the VIP section. That's the only reason we got to meet you guys after – the, um, after party and seats in the VIP section were part of the prize." Bilbo shrugged. "Thranduil even invited me up to the top of his RV thing –" 

Bifur snorted. "Dear god, is he still using that?" 

"Do you think he'd give it up after all this time?" Thorin responded.

Bilbo shook his head. "The view of the band was much better from up there. I got a nice look at, well," he smirked at Thorin, who was now paying him close attention. "I could see a lot more of you, you know, than if I'd been down with the rest of the fans. I mean, otherwise I might have been confused about which one of you three was the lead guitarist."

Bifur laughed. "Oh, I think Kili's got his eye on lead singer soon."

"Does he want to sing? I thought he wrote some of the music?" Bilbo looked between Thorin and Bifur.

"No, Fili writes. Kili's got a great voice, very flexible. He's young, so he can still hit the really high notes." Thorin shrugged, looking unconcerned. "We've been talking about shifting things around again. It's probably time. And anyway," he pulled Bilbo into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I have a big reason to stay home more and start writing for other singers now."

Bilbo felt himself blush, but gave in and hugged Thorin back as tightly as he could. _Wow. That sounds like a big commitment._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the sweater that Ori's making for Nori. [Wash](http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/washs-sweater) I should make one.


	39. Thirty Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time before Christmas is very happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's a lot here. 
> 
> The songs Thorin sings in the kitchen, and then alone with Bilbo are here:
> 
> [Falcon in the Dive](https://youtu.be/nUlVLC3mGwM)   
>  [Where's the Girl](https://youtu.be/MEVYsnGWhTA)
> 
> [Barbacoa](http://www.gimmesomeoven.com/barbacoa-recipe/) is dead easy, and super delicious. This makes a flat ton of it, though, so be prepared. 
> 
> [Squirrel Nut Zippers](https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=squirrel+nut+zippers) are an old band now, but they're such a fun mix of swing and zydeco and electronic stuff that I thought the Durin boys would like them. I like La Grippe best, myself.

Thirty Nine

The next few weeks were idyllic. Bilbo hadn't expected how easily Thorin – and the rest of Thorin's family – would fit into his life. 

Bilbo hadn't been sure how they'd work out how to spend time together, but Thorin assumed he'd stay at Bilbo's most of the time. He packed a bag and showed up, the day after the party, with three large pizzas in his car. 

Later that evening, after Frodo and his friends – all of whom were spending the whole weekend at Bilbo's house – had decimated the pizzas and were doing something terribly loud in Frodo's room, he pulled out a bottle of champagne and a box of chocolate dipped strawberries he'd hidden in the fridge when Bilbo wasn't looking. 

They sat in the back yard, bundled up into all of Bilbo's extra blankets, drinking the champagne out of his largest mugs; Thorin got chocolate on his beard and Bilbo, feeling giddy and young, leaned forward to kiss it off. Thorin's blush made Bilbo laugh. 

"Why'd you decide to come here? Your house is bigger," Bilbo said, later that night, when they were curled together in bed. 

Thorin huffed into his hair. "You've got the kids, and I can be comfortable anywhere I've got a little bit of room. Side effect of all the touring, I guess." He pulled Bilbo closer, and stuck his nose under Bilbo's ear. "And this way, the kids can entertain themselves while we learn about each other." 

Bilbo wriggled and flipped over to face him, carefully keeping his expression innocent. "Whatever could we need to learn?"

Thorin's laugh was dark and full of promise.

Over the next few days, Bilbo learned that music followed Thorin like his own personal breeze. He was always humming or singing – the first time he burst into full-throated song in the shower, Bilbo and Frodo both stood in the hall listening with wide eyes and startled, happy smiles. He sang snatches of rock music that Bilbo recognized from his and Thorin's youth, but he also sang bits of opera and, once, when Bilbo was baking and had put on the soundtrack to _The Scarlet Pimpernel_ , Thorin sang all of Chauvelin's "Falcon in the Dive", acting out the whole thing. Bilbo didn't know if he should laugh or ask for more. 

That night, after Frodo had gone to bed, Thorin snuck up behind Bilbo while he was sitting in his favorite chair in the living room and sung "Where's the Girl"; when Bilbo saw his expression, he shivered and drew Thorin down the corridor to their bedroom.

Bilbo had been worried that Thorin would be bored. Bilbo's days were mostly spent in a routine: he'd wake up and make breakfast – more extravagant ones during the holiday when he had more time – then spend a couple of hours in his office, either working on research and academic writing, or immersed in planning the last two novels in his series. After lunch, he'd spend time doing household chores, then feed however many teenagers appeared for dinner, and move to the living room to read for the rest of the evening. 

On the first day after Thorin had come, Bilbo asked Thorin what he wanted to do. He shrugged and said that he was happy to do whatever Bilbo usually did. Within three days, they'd worked out a routine that worked perfectly. While Bilbo was working, Thorin spent time on his computer. By the time Bilbo was finished, Thorin was usually in the kitchen, putting something together for lunch. He was, unexpectedly, a good cook, and Bilbo found himself stopping work earlier than he had before, just to see what Thorin made for them to eat.

They got used to having Sam and Frodo bouncing between their two house as if it were one large house and had Bell and Hamfast over for dinner. Bell was quite excited to meet Thorin and he and Hamfast found common interests in a discussion about local history. Bilbo smiled to see Sam rolling his eyes as his father used his ever-present lined notebook to sketch out the old tunnels through the hills separating the Bay Area from the cities further inland.

He found that he and Thorin didn't always stay in after lunch. Thorin was very familiar with the Bay Area and he enjoyed spending time showing Bilbo parts of the Bay that Bilbo hadn't seen – Bilbo had moved to the area from Hobbiton when he was in college and hadn't spent much time on anything touristy, so he'd missed many of the local attractions. Thorin took him to sit on the beach and watch the sunset; even though it was foggy out, the sunset made the fog brilliant with color. Bilbo leaned back into Thorin's bulk and smiled as Thorin pulled his oversized jacket around himself and Bilbo. 

When Thorin had been there less than a week, he was horrified to hear that Bilbo had never been to Alcatraz. He arranged a trip and they spent a whole day walking around the old prison. Frodo, Rosie, and Sam had been to the island on class trips, but Thorin insisted they come as well. Bilbo was very surprised to find Fili and Kili waiting for them at the ferry gates. They beamed at him and hustled him onto the boat before he had a chance to say anything.

On the island, Sam led the way to the prison and he and Rosie and Frodo spent time reading every single placard and sign while the adults wandered more freely. Bilbo found himself the center of attention.

"So," Kili said as Fili and Thorin walked ahead to look at the next room, "we haven't heard much from Thorin this week. Sounds like he's settled in well." 

Bilbo looked at him quickly but he didn't seem to be mocking or teasing. "He fits in quite well, actually. He's a good cook."

Kili nodded. "When dad died, mom was a bit of a mess, so Thorin took over for a while. I used to insist on grilled cheese sandwiches every single day." He laughed, a bit sadly. "His are the best."

Bilbo looked up to see Thorin watching them, a small smile on his face. "He makes good mac and cheese, as well."

Fili bounced up to them. "Oh, are we discussing Uncle Thorin's cooking? Because he's the best ever at Barbacoa. It's this shredded beef thing, in the slow cooker. I haven't had it in ages." He grinned at Thorin, who'd shoved his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt. "D'you think he'd make it if I asked real nice," Fili continued in a loud whisper.

Bilbo grinned. "I don't know. Have you been a good boy?" He heard Kili snort, which made him laugh out loud. 

Thorin shook his head, smiling broadly now. "I can make it, but it'll have to be tomorrow or the day after. It needs to cook for a few hours."

"Perfect," Fili said. "So, you'll make dinner. Kili can bring dessert and that leaves appetizers and drinks to me. Cool. Beer's better for this than wine – Bilbo, do you like ales? IPA?"

They wandered further down the long aisles of prison cells, discussing food and reading the signs on the walls. 

Two days later, Bilbo looked at his dining room table, overflowing with laughing happy people and felt something in his chest relax; it was as if an empty spot he hadn't even known about was filling up. Fili and Kili had brought their mother, who'd brought a beautiful cut-glass fruit bowl filled with oranges and pomegranates. 

After dinner, Frodo cleared the table with Kili's enthusiastic help. When they were done, Frodo disappeared down the hall and everyone else moved to Bilbo's living room. Dis was standing at the front window, looking down at Bofur's carved figures. She turned to him and smiled a bit wistfully. 

"Bofur carved these, didn't he?" She stroked the elf's head. "I'd recognize his work anywhere." 

Bilbo ran a finger down the dragon's spine. "Yes. I met him the same day I met Thorin, actually. He had a booth at the show and I walked in accidentally." At the sound of a scuffle, he turned to see Thorin's arms pinned by Kili as Fili shuffled through Bilbo's music collection on his iPod.

"You've got our album," he called. 

Bilbo nodded, still thinking about how he'd felt when he first went into Bofur's booth. _This couldn't be further from where I was then._ "Yes," he said. "I got it when Frodo won his tickets to the concert. I thought I should listen to it before I heard you perform. Like homework."

Next to him, Dis snorted. "If only they'd been that diligent when they were younger."

Kili groaned and Thorin finished pulling his arms out of Kili's grasp. He reached for the iPod and started discussing something with Fili. Kili brushed himself off and sat on the couch near the window. 

"Hey," he said, "I recognize that one." He was pointing at Deathless, who was standing on a side table, disapproving of the stack of papers Thorin had left there. Dis blanched when she saw him, and Bilbo looked anxiously at Thorin. 

Dis' head turned slowly to Bilbo. Before she said anything, he said, "I know. It's Deathless. Bofur gave him to me, when we met. I …" He jumped as Thorin's hand stroked down his back. 

"Funny how things happen, isn't it?" Thorin said, voice light, but eyes concerned. Dis looked up at him, her expression stormy. Suddenly, she laughed, a sharp sound, and ran a hand over her face. 

"Well, if anyone's going to have Deathless, it's appropriate that it's you," she said. "I just …" She reached out and stroked a gentle finger down his hair, making him rock gently on his base. "I hadn't expected to see him here."

Bilbo's doorbell rang, startling everyone. Bilbo trotted to the door; Ori stood on the other side wearing three sweaters and a large, floppy hat. 

"Can I come in?" He looked woebegone.

"Of course! Come in – is anything wrong?" Bilbo closed his eyes for a moment, feeling stupid. "I mean, whatever's wrong, we can help."

"We?" Ori looked up from where he was carefully putting down a large bag. 

"Hey, if it isn't the scientist!" Fili's head poked around the corner of the foyer. "I'm getting more beer, d'you want any? We've got growlers of some good local stuff, and I think Bilbo has half a bottle of wine, if you'd rather that." 

Ori pulled off his hat and dropped it on his bag. "I'll take a beer, I think. Whatever you have that isn't too hoppy." When Fili had gone, he turned back to Bilbo. "I'm sorry to just show up, and if I'd known you had company, I wouldn't have –" 

"Oh pish," Bilbo said. "I told you to come over whenever you wanted to. Now, come into the living room. Are you hungry? Thorin made this Mexican beef thing – it's great."

Ori looked relieved. "I'm starving." Bilbo pushed him toward the living room and went to fill a plate for him in the kitchen. Fili was still there, carefully pouring beer down the sides of mugs so they wouldn't build up a head of foam. 

"He looks peaky," Fili said. "He okay?"

Bilbo shook his head, scooping a healthy serving of the Barbacoa over rice and adding some of the fresh salsa Thorin had made as a side. "I don't know." He shot a smile at Fili. "Let's go find out."

In the living room, Ori dug into the meal with gusto; he stopped after about three bites and said, "Oh wow, this is great. How'd you make it?"

Thorin dropped into the chair he'd been using in the evenings. On the table next to him, Deathless shook. "It's easy. I can give you the recipe, if you want." 

Ori nodded, eyes wide, then drank from the mug of beer Fili handed him. "Mph, thanks." 

Kili had, evidently, found something he wanted to listen to; there was a pleased cry, then the sounds of an electronic drum filled the room, followed quickly by brassy trumpets and a guitar. Thorin's head snapped up, then over to Bilbo.

"You've got Squirrel Nut Zippers?" He sounded amazed.

Bilbo nodded, a little startled. "Uh, yes? I mean, I like swing and classical and someone recommended them to me, oh, years ago, so I bought all their albums. They're great for listening to when I have a lot of work to do in the garden." Behind him, Fili chuckled. 

Dis sat down across from Ori. "Kili used to dance around the house to them. I think you can get him to dance to anything that's even slightly swing."

Ori looked up from his now-empty plate. "There's electroswing. It's really interesting." He stood and gestured with the plate. "I'll be right back." He came back with his bag, which held a pile of red yarn.

"So," Kili said, draping himself over the arm of Ori's chair. "What's got you out this late at night?"

Ori looked at the knitting in his lap, then around at everyone. "How well do you know Bofur?"

Kili laughed, but Dis looked thoughtful. "He's artistic, fiercely loyal, has a strange obsession with that bizarre hat, and I think he's single." She tipped her head to one side. "Why? If I may ask."

"Bet he's not single anymore," Thorin muttered to Bilbo, who'd ended up sitting in his lap. 

Bilbo snorted softly. "No bet," he whispered. 

Ori tugged at his knitting. "Why's he single? He's so great. I mean – " He rubbed his cheeks. "And how does he fit in with your band?"

"His cousin's Bifur," Fili said from where he'd collapsed onto the floor near Kili's feet. "Dori didn't tell you about him?"

Ori looked peeved. "No. He's in the middle of another of his arguments with Nori and he's forgotten that I'm over eighteen again."

Bilbo leaned back against Thorin's chest and sighed happily.

"Well," Dis said, "as Fili said, his cousin's in the band. But also, he's related to us by marriage. Have you had a chance to see him again since the party?"

Ori shook his head. "We've been emailing, but I've been a bit trapped with my brothers. I was hoping –" He looked at Bilbo, who tried to look encouraging. "I'd hoped to stay here for a day or two, at least until Christmas Eve."

"Of course," Bilbo said. "Ah, there's a pull out couch in here, if that'll be okay."

"Sounds perfect," Ori said.


	40. Forty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holidays don't always bring fun things.

Bilbo was on his way to school when his phone rang. He hit Connect without looking at the phone; Thorin had gone to the grocery store with Frodo and he'd never made it there and back again without a pressing question about which kind of pasta sauce Bilbo wanted, or whether or not he should get a cheesecake.

"We don't need a cheesecake, Thorin, I'll make something when I get home."

"Well, isn't that sweet?" The voice which came through Bilbo's earpiece was bitter and sharp.

"Lobelia," Bilbo said, suddenly cold. He turned the last corner and parked in his usual spot in the faculty parking lot. "What do you want?"

"Oh, you're not going to even pretend to be polite? Clearly the people you're spending your time with are teaching you bad habits." She tutted and Bilbo could feel his shoulders tighten. "However, since you ask, and since it's obvious the stories are true and you're … with that _musician_ …" Bilbo wondered how she could infuse such a plain word with so much scorn, but then she took a breath and continued. "What I want is him not at my wedding."

Bilbo ran a hand over his face. "Lobelia," he sighed, "how nice to hear from you. How's the planning going?"

"Fine, thanks so much for asking." She sounded brittle. "I won't bother asking how you are, it's all over the news. I'm serious, Bilbo, I don't want him there."

Bilbo sat up straight. "All over the … where?"

"Oh, I thought that might interest you. Enjoying your bit of reflected fame?" 

"I don’t want to play this game with you, Lobelia. Either you can tell me things directly or don't tell me, but I'm not dragging them out of you like toffee. Thank you for calling to let me know your wishes. Of course, as it's your wedding, I won't bring anyone you don't want. Now, I have to go to work. It was lovely to hear from you." He hung up the phone and yanked the earpiece from his ear, dropping it, and his phone, into his satchel.

"You know what, Lobelia," he said aloud as he stepped from the car, "I am _sorry_ your life isn't turning out the way you thought it would, but your fucking bullshit makes it so hard for anyone else to care about the fact that you're unhappy." After a moment spent calming himself down, he walked into the science building.

After an hour spent in his office organizing the next quarter's classes and looking over the latest batch of interdepartmental emails, he repacked his bag with his teaching notebook for the middle quarter of his year-long courses and the notebook for the courses he'd only be teaching once. Things didn't quite fit, so he pulled everything out. 

His phone showed three missed calls, five texts, and two voicemail messages. He sighed and sat back down.

Two of the calls were Thorin – he'd left one of the voicemails; today's meal would contain garlic bread and sun dried tomatoes. All of the texts were from Frodo; he wanted Bilbo to convince Thorin that Mexican Coke was better than regular Coke.

The last voicemail was Lobelia, her voice piercing in the little room. "Just because you're with someone rich doesn't mean he'll stay with you. You can't expect him to stay when you're so tedious."

Bilbo rubbed his face again and stood up. "Go to hell," he told the phone and deleted the voicemails. He was on his way to the lab he shared with Ori when he heard a scuffle around a corner he'd just passed. He tensed and turned, but then heard a voice call his name.

"Bilbo my lad!" Gandalf strode down the corridor, beaming at him. "It's so good to see you. I hear you're doing well." He reached Bilbo and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Come to my office when you've finished your work and let's catch up."

Bilbo huffed a laugh and finished going down the hall to his lab. While there, he set up the next experiments he wanted to run with Ori, double checked the lab notes they'd been keeping, and checked their supplies to see what he needed to order for the coming quarter. After that, he stopped off at the Stockroom and left a list for Arwen, along with a small container of lavender shortbread cookies. 

As he walked back down the hall toward Gandalf's office, he found himself thinking of Lobelia's calls. "If I can't bring Thorin," he muttered, "who the hell should I bring? I don't want to be stuck there on my own."

Gandalf was alone in his office, sitting with his feet propped up on the corner of his desk and a thick book open in his lap. He looked up when Bilbo tapped on his door. "Hullo," he said, setting the book aside. "How has your holiday gone?"

Bilbo smiled, feeling a sudden rush of relief. Gandalf might be a frustrating dean, but he was always friendly, often kind, and frequently wise. Bilbo collapsed into the chair and started with the absolute chaos that having five teenagers spend half a week camped out in one's house could cause. By the end of the story of how Pippin and Merry had been found up the palm trees in his front yard, trying to put lights on them, Gandalf's laugh was booming into the room. 

"At least you can't say you're bored," Gandalf said when he'd calmed down. "Christmas is only a day from now – do you have any plans?" 

"Nothing too big," Bilbo said, "I think we're doing the Christmas morning thing at my house, then having dinner at his, with his family." 

"Ah yes." Gandalf looked knowing. "Your new young man. How is that going?"

Bilbo shrugged. "Well, I think. His family is very large, but that's nothing new. Oh, you'll have heard of one of his cousins – he's a Dr Balin Jarnnave, at some place in New Jersey." 

Gandalf looked thoughtful for a moment, then he smiled. "I'd love to meet him, if he's interested. Maybe he could give a seminar." He paused. "Speaking of family, has Ms Bracegirdle set a date yet?"

Bilbo stared at him. "I, ah, yes, actually, She has. Has she not … no, she wouldn't." He pulled out his phone and checked the date of Lobelia's wedding. "Would you be interested in coming with me?"

"You're not attending with your friend?" 

"Lobelia has requested that I attend with someone else." Bilbo smiled. "And as you've known her for many years, I think it would be lovely for you to see her get married."

Gandalf's smile sharpened slightly and he chuckled. "That sounds very pleasant, yes. It's been a long time since I've spent any time with your mother as well."

By the time Bilbo got home, he couldn't find anywhere to park in front of his house. He settled for wedging his car in between a low-slung dark green car and Ori's beat up old hatchback. The living room curtains were pulled back and warm light spilled out through the window. When he opened the door, a wave of sound – music and bright happy laughter – poured over him. With a deep sigh, he dropped his bag against the wall, toed off his shoes, and went to join the fun.

Fili and Sam were in his kitchen, arguing briskly over something in a pan. It smelled good, so Bilbo figured that it didn't matter which of them ended up with the seasoning of the dish. The sliding glass door to the back yard opened and Thorin stuck his head through.

"Bilbo! You're home. Come and see what we've done out here."

Hamfast and Bell sat comfortably wrapped in blankets as Rosie and Frodo finished wrapping something around the legs of their chairs. Frodo grinned at Bilbo, then nodded at Thorin.

"I think that's it – we're ready," he said, stepping back.

Thorin shoved at something against the wall and the whole back yard lit with brilliant color. They'd strung lights around every single surface and edge they could find, including the trees, the table edges and legs, the shelving Bilbo used for his empty tomato pots and soil, and all the chairs. Bilbo started laughing. 

"This is amazing! When did you start this?" He hugged Thorin.

"We've been working on it for a day or so," Thorin said, grinning down at him.

Bell leaned forward. "They have – they started at our house and then came over here."

Bilbo blinked, then climbed up the little ladder to see over the wall between their yards. Hamfast and Bell's back yard was just as brilliantly lit. They'd used colored lights to make the lemon trees look like palm trees and someone had strung lights around and over Hamfast's large barbeque grill to make it look as if it were a wedding chapel.

"Hey guys," called Fili from inside. "Dinner's ready. Come on in."

After dinner, Fili and Sam insisted that Frodo and Rosie do the clean up, as they hadn't cooked. While they worked on clearing up the mess the cooks had left, and the rest of the party decamped to the living room, Bilbo pulled Sam aside. 

"I was hoping I could ask you for a favor," Bilbo said. 

Sam was instantly serious. "Anything, sir."

Bilbo shook his head. "Kiddo, you know you don't have to call me that. Really." He paused. "So, I … well, I had a phone call from my cousin who's getting married soon. She said something about my personal life being 'all over the news', and I don't know where to check for that."

Sam looked thoughtful. "This is that woman Frodo's told me about, right? She's the one who's always mean?" At Bilbo's nod, he wrinkled his nose. "Is she internet-savvy? I mean, do you think she's been going to the online news sites, or is she not the type?"

"I've no idea. I'd bet on her going online, though, especially if she thinks it's a good way to dig up something really awful." Bilbo leaned back against the wall. "I'm sorry to ask you, but I don't even know where to start looking."

"Oh, don't worry. I'll find out what's going on and let you know." 

Bilbo sighed. "And can you show me where to look, how to find out what people are saying? I can't keep relying on other people for this."

Sam nodded. "'Course. I'll see what I can find in the next few days, then give you a list of the sites that have the most information."

Just then the doorbell rang and Rosie trotted down the hall to answer it. Ori stepped inside, followed closely by Bofur. 

"Sorry to come over so late," Ori said privately to Bilbo after greeting everyone else. "Only, I wasn't expecting to have Bofur with me and then I didn't want to leave him behind – did you know he was planning on spending Christmas by himself?"

Bofur loomed up behind Ori, smiling at little sheepishly at Bilbo. "I'm sorry to intrude," he said and Bilbo started laughing. 

"Oh, don't worry about it. The sofa-bed's a bit small for the two of you, and I’m not at all sure where people will sleep, but I’m sure we can fit everyone in, one way or another."

Bofur blushed bright red and Bilbo snickered again. _I guess Ori hadn't said where they'd be sleeping yet._

The game of musical bedrooms wasn't as bad as Bilbo had expected. Fili went home well before midnight, Sam and his parents went home through the glow of the lights in their yards, and Rosie's parents came to pick her up soon after that. In the bustle of her leaving, Bilbo managed to tell her mother that he'd love to have them over soon for dinner. 

Bilbo helped Ori set up the sofa-bed, then trundled off to his own bedroom, happy and tired. Thorin was sitting on the bed holding a couple of brightly wrapped boxes in his hands.

"I know it's early," Thorin said, but then looked at the clock on the wall. "Nope, I was wrong. It's just gone midnight. Merry Christmas," he said, holding out a box. "Don't you want to see what Santa brought you?"

Bilbo laughed. "Hang on while I get ready and then I'm all Santa's." After he put away his clothes and brushed his teeth, he got out the packages he had for Thorin. 

"First," he said, crawling onto the bed with Thorin, "this isn't a Christmas gift, just something you should have." He dropped a set of house keys into Thorin's hand. "I figure, since you're, well, going to be here, you shouldn't have to rely on one of us to let you in." Thorin was silent, staring at the keys on his palm. Bilbo folded his fingers together tightly. "I got the bronze acorn keychain … I thought it would be sort of funny. You know," he waved a hand, "Oakenshield?"

Thorin looked up at him, eyes very dark and unexpectedly wet. "You're … this is the best gift you could give me. Thank you." He reached forward and pulled Bilbo into a long warm hug. When he leaned back he grinned. "Your turn."


	41. Forty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas gifts all around!

Bilbo stared down at the two packages Thorin pushed at him. One was large, with plain dark paper and looked professionally wrapped. The second was smaller and wrapped in blue glittery paper. Bilbo looked up at Thorin, who returned his look with an encouraging one of his own. 

Grinning, Bilbo pulled off the blue paper of the smaller package. It was a heavy book; the covers were made of smooth, soft leather dyed a deep, rich red. Bilbo opened it. 

"It's blank," he said.

Thorin nodded. "It's hand made. The leather's from a deer Dwalin took a couple of years ago and I had someone dye it. I hope you like the red. Bofur knows someone who hand sews books – she makes the most amazing miniatures and journals – and she did the construction. Sewing. Whatever." He seemed anxious and Bilbo leaned forward, rubbing a hand up his arm. 

"It's gorgeous. Thank you," Bilbo said. He stroked a hand carefully over the swirling embossed curved lines in the cover and ran a finger gently over the gold leaf star at the top of the cover. He turned the book over, then peered down the spine, trying to see the stitching. "This is truly beautiful."

Thorin smiled, shoulders relaxing slightly. "You've said you're nearly done with the horselords books, but that you have other ideas. I thought you could use something good to write down your new ideas." 

"Oh," Bilbo nodded, fingers curling around the edges of the book. "That's a great idea. I can't wait to get started." He paused, thinking of his own gifts. "But… well, my gifts aren't as nice as this." 

Thorin shook his head. "The key to your house is the best gift, honestly." He leaned forward into Bilbo's kiss, then pulled back, beaming. "So, is it my turn?"

Bilbo laughed, handing over his two packages. He'd had a very hard time thinking of something to give Thorin. Thorin seemed to have everything he might want – and most of the things he might want were either well out of Bilbo's price range or the sort of thing he'd want to have Thorin's input on. Finally, he'd come up with two gifts he thought would be amusing, and hopefully useful. 

Thorin fingered both packages, but Bilbo'd carefully put the softer item in a box so it couldn't be guessed by feel. There'd been nothing he could do about the difference in weight. Finally, with a childlike smile, he chose the smaller of the two and ripped the paper off. He then shook the resulting plain white box, glaring playfully at Bilbo when he snorted. 

"How'm I supposed to figure out what my present is if I don't shake it? Thorin asked. He opened the box and his breath caught. "Oh Bilbo," he said, "this is lovely." He lifted out a thick robe made from patches of different fabrics and lined with soft flannel. Thorin slipped off the bed and pulled it on, tucking the deep shawl collar around his ears and wrapping the body of the robe tightly around his waist, pulling the belt tight. When he stuck his hands into the pockets, his brows drew together. "What's this?" He drew out a little envelope and opened it.

_Dear Thorin,_

_We wanted to welcome you to the family and you wouldn't be a Baggins without a proper dressing gown. There are bits of fabric in this from Bilbo's childhood as well as some from things made for other family members._

_Wear it in good health,_

_Bella, Bungo, and Bilbo_

Thorin looked at Bilbo, mouth slightly open. "Your mother made this for me?" At Bilbo's nod, he crawled back onto the bed and hugged Bilbo so hard they tipped over. "I'll have to call her tomorrow to thank her!" 

Several breathless minutes later, Thorin rolled off of Bilbo. "Let's save the other presents for tomorrow. I've got something else I'd like to give you now." Bilbo laughed, but happily cleared the unopened presents and torn wrapping paper off the bed.

***

The next morning started earlier than Bilbo wanted, but once he was up and had drunk a full cup of coffee, he was happy enough to start making french toast for everyone's breakfast. He heard Frodo and Thorin coming down the hall and grinned into his nearly empty second cup. Ori and Bofur made their appearance when Bilbo tapped on the living room door frame. Ori's hair stuck out in all directions, but Bofur's besotted expression just made Bilbo smile. 

"Breakfast first, then presents," he said and laughed at Frodo's groan. Thorin swept Bilbo into a deep hug, then stood back to show off the dressing gown to everyone else. Bilbo shook his head, smiling, and gestured to his own – not quite matching, but certainly related – robe. 

After a lively breakfast, they folded up the sofa-bed and Frodo eagerly doled out the presents. Bofur and Ori were tucked onto the couch under one of Bilbo's afghans while he and Thorin sat in the chairs that Bilbo had begun to think of as 'their' chairs. 

Bilbo'd conferred with Sam and had got Frodo the latest two extensions for the game he was playing with his friends, but Thorin surprised both of them by handing over a slim envelope. Frodo opened it and stared down at the papers, then back at Thorin. 

"What is it?" Bilbo asked. 

"Music writing lessons, with Fili, and with someone else. Oh wow, thanks, this is really cool. Rosie'll be really jealous."

Thorin smiled and ruffled Frodo's hair. "Fili volunteered, actually, and he'll get you past the basics, but I know people who teach at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music and if you like what you learn from Fili, we'll look into getting you into lessons there."

"That's a really great school," Ori said. "I'm sure you'll do well." He drained his coffee cup and looked sadly into its depths. Next to him, Bofur chuckled and stood. 

"I'll get us refills." 

"Oh, just bring the pot," Bilbo said, "and the jar labeled cookies. We'll probably need sustenance." 

Frodo gave Bilbo a hug, then gave one to Thorin, leaving him looking pleased but a bit surprised. "That went well," he said after Frodo had taken off back to his room with half a dozen cookies. 

Bilbo just laughed. "I’m glad he's got something to be enthusiastic about. Sam's so focused that Frodo sometimes felt a bit left behind." He rubbed his hands together. "Now," he continued, "I hope you like my last gift for you as much as you liked the first one." He handed over the second package and leaned back in his chair. 

Thorin rubbed his hands together. "This one's heavy!" He tore the paper off and froze for a minute. As Bilbo watched, Thorin slid the rest of the paper away, then carefully turned the case inside to run fingers over the name burned into the wood. "You got me a harp." His voice was very soft.

"Ah, Dis said it would be okay. She told me which are the best ones …" 

Thorin looked up. "I haven't had a harp since I was little – my grandmother had one and taught me to play, but I haven't … It's wonderful, Bilbo." He smiled at Bilbo, eyes a little misty. He opened the case and stroked the curved instrument inside gently. "Thank you."

Thorin took the harp out of the case, setting the case aside on the floor, then tucked the harp onto his lap and bent over it, slipping his fingers along the strings. Liquid notes poured from his hands and Bilbo felt his chest catch. Thorin turned one of the tuning keys, then closed his eyes and started playing. 

Bilbo looked up from watching Thorin to see Frodo standing in the doorway, eyes wide. He crept carefully across the room and sat on the arm of Bilbo's chair. "I guess he likes it," he whispered. Bilbo nodded, smiling. Bofur caught his eye and gave him a big thumbs up behind Ori's back.

When the song ended, Thorin remained bent over the harp for a second, then he sat up, looking a bit startled at seeing Frodo back in the room. "Thank you very much, Bilbo," he said. After a moment, he chuckled. "Don't forget you've another one." 

"Right," Bilbo said, pulling the box onto his lap. "It's kind of heavy. I hope you didn't get me a harp, I've no idea how to play it!" Everyone laughed, but Bilbo saw Thorin's fingers curl around the harp base. 

Bilbo tugged the paper off, then lifted the lid of the heavy white box. Inside was a black coat lined with a lighter grey fabric. Bilbo took it by the shoulders and lifted and the box fell away to the floor. He stood, holding it up and turning it from side to side. "This is very nice, Thorin." He turned it again. "Oh, it's got a hood, that'll be nice. It's really heavy."

Thorin stood, setting his harp in his chair. "How does it fit? It's wool, so it'll be warm." He took it from Bilbo and held it up while Bilbo undid the buttons, then took off his dressing gown and turned to slide his arms into the jacket. It fit oddly over his loose pajama sleeves, but otherwise was perfect. 

"This is very nice," Bilbo said, stroking his hands down the heavy cloth. "And .. oh look, there are warming pockets as well as regular ones." Thorin's hands ran along Bilbo's shoulders, adjusting the fit slightly. He stood back and Bilbo spread his arms out. 

"How'd you get my size, anyway?" Bilbo asked, turning slightly as he unbuttoned the coat and took it off. "Oh look there's a zipper – the hood comes off! That's convenient." He caught a glimpse of Bofur staring hard at Thorin; his expression was an odd mixture of worry and something that seemed like anger, but then he glanced at Bilbo and relaxed into a smile so quickly Bilbo thought he must have imagined it. 

"I stole one of your jackets," Thorin said, looking sheepish. "This company only makes custom sizes, so I took the measurements from one of the jackets in the back of your closet."

Bilbo started laughing. "Well, I'm glad you didn't pick my father's old gardening jacket that he's forgotten here the last three times he came down to visit. That would have been embarrassing." He folded the coat. "It's heavier than it looks – the wool must be very dense." 

Ori reached for it and Bilbo held it out to him; Ori stroked it and smiled. "That's great. Very good quality. I wonder if I should get something like it." 

At his side, Bofur's expression flickered. "Nah," he said. "I don't think you'll be needin' a coat like that. 'Sides, when does it get cold enough for heavy wool?" 

"Speaking of wool," Ori said, "I um. I made you something." He pulled out a large, soft package and dropped it onto Bofur's lap. I hope it fits. I got your brother to measure something of yours, but it's really better to … Oh just open it, okay?"

Bofur grinned at him, then greedily tore the package open. A large pile of red knitting tumbled out and Bofur gasped. "You made me a sweater?" He stood and tugged it over his head, twisting and turning to make everything settle where he wanted it. "There," he said, holding out his arms. "How do I look?"

Bilbo smiled at Ori's face, looking up at Bofur. The sweater seemed simple, but the way the cables bent out at the chest and met up with cables on the sleeves made it obvious just how broad Bofur's shoulders were and how narrow his waist was. 

"You look very good," Ori said, blinking quickly then standing to tug at the sweater, making the collar lie flat and straightening the sleeves a bit. "I'm glad I picked red."

Just then Bilbo's phone started ringing and the holiday calls started. 

Bilbo wore his new coat to Thorin's house for their traditional Christmas dinner. As he was hanging it up in the closet, Dwalin came over with a glass of wine. 

"Oh, Thorin got you a tactical coat." He lifted the hem and seemed to weigh it in his hand. "Good, he got you the heavyweight one." 

Bilbo sipped from the wine glass. "It's heavy wool, yes. I'm not sure the Bay Area ever gets cold enough to wear it; it must have cost a fortune. He said it was custom made."

Dwalin looked at him oddly. "You don't wear a tactical coat because it's cold out. You wear it because – " 

"Ah, there you are," Thorin stepped between them, pushing the closet door all the way shut. "I want you to watch when I show Dis what you got me." He wrapped his arm around Bilbo's shoulders and tugged gently. 

"She knows," Bilbo said. "Or at least she knows what I was planning on getting, in the abstract." 

In the kitchen doorway, Thorin stopped. "You go on – there's something I forgot to bring downstairs." He turned and grabbed Dwalin's bicep and pulled, dragging him along. They didn't go upstairs; Bilbo saw them stop at the foot of the stairs where Thorin said something that must have been sharp, because Dwalin stepped backwards, hands lifted in the air, his expression apologetic. 

Bilbo shook his head. _I wonder what Dwalin did that made Thorin mad. Weird._ Then he turned back to the kitchen, where Fili and Kili were sitting with Dis at the table near the windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's first gift to Bilbo looks like this: [Red Book](http://indyprops.com/pp-rb.htm) and his second is this: [Jacket](http://www.bulletblocker.com/nij-iiia-bulletproof-black-wool-hooded-coat.html). 
> 
> Bilbo's second gift to Thorin is the Evensong shown here: [Evensong](http://www.stoneyend.com/lap-harps.php#even-song-26), and what he plays on it is something like this: [Harfenspiel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dizGy3xpVhI)
> 
> The sweater Ori's made for Bofur in such a tearing hurry is this one: [Armas](http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/armas-2)


	42. Forty Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Families can be complicated things, but in the end, they just want what will make everyone happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 42 weeks of this story and I just want to say that I'm so grateful to all of you for reading and commenting and following along! I'm so pleased to have been able to entertain you guys!

What Thorin had forgotten upstairs was sheet music, and the expression of mixed pleasure and pain on Dis' face as he started to play made Bilbo look away quickly. He caught Dwalin's eye; the startled look in his eyes faded and he smiled broadly at Bilbo.

After the last few notes fell from Thorin's fingers, he looked around at the group and smiled, bittersweet and slightly tight. The kitchen was silent, then Kili leaned back in his chair and sighed gustily.

"That was beautiful, where'd you learn it?"

Thorin and Dis both laughed and Dwalin thumped Kili gently on the shoulder. Kili looked a little indignant and crossed his arms.

"My grandmother wrote it," Thorin said, smiling more happily now. He set the harp aside, but Dis picked it up, turning it carefully in the light. 

She looked at Bilbo. "This is good," she said. "You picked a good one for him to start back with."

"Back with?" Thorin looked over from where he'd been inspecting something Kili was showing him. "I'm not planning on … "

"I just thought," she started, then they both stopped and turned as a rapid arpeggio poured into the incipient argument.

Fili had picked up the harp and was plucking the strings, thoughtfully. He ran his fingers up and down the strings; it looked like he was focusing on his finger work but Bilbo caught the flash of his eyes as he watched his mother and uncle. When he had their attention, he started playing something that sounded familiar to Bilbo but he couldn't place. 

Dwalin, though, started chuckling. He clapped Thorin on the shoulder and said, "There, see? You should use that on stage."

After that, the dinner dissolved into various discussions, with the instrument getting passed around as everyone laughed and traded small gifts as they ate. 

That night, upstairs in Thorin's big bed, Bilbo watched Thorin as he brushed out his hair. Thorin had turned off all the lights except the small one at the bedside; its stained glass shade depicted wisteria blossoms dripping almost to the base of the lamp. The flowers tinted the light in the room blues and purples, making Thorin look as if he were under water. 

Bilbo sighed. "So, was the harp not really a good gift?"

Thorin looked up at him, eyes wide. "No, I love it, why? It's perfect." He set the brush down and came to the bed, sitting on the edge and running a hand through Bilbo's hair. 

Bilbo felt his shoulders relax. "Well, you and your sister seemed to be … ah –" 

Thorin chuckled. "Oh that. That's nothing to do with you. She thinks I should be playing classical music professionally, because our grandmother wanted to. I'm not sure exactly where she got that idea, but," he shrugged. "I mean, I can see why she'd think it – Grandma was pretty upset when none of her children were interested in music, but she loved the band." 

He crawled over Bilbo and slid under the covers, snuggling close. "Fili takes after her in many ways. She was always the peacemaker." His hands slid down Bilbo's back, tucking Bilbo's body tight against his. "But there's something else I'd like to give you for Christmas," he murmured into Bilbo's ear. "Let me just see if I can unwrap it for you."

The next few days they spent mostly at Bilbo's house; Bilbo spent some of the time in his office working on the two additions to his Horse Lords stories, but a lot of the time, he and Thorin spent finding places in the area that Bilbo hadn't seen. 

Bilbo was surprised at how much of the area he'd missed; he jokingly asked Thorin if he'd ever thought about being a local tour guide and was amused when Thorin took him to the largest tourist area and insisted on buying him post cards, several horrifying fridge magnets, and an extremely tacky sweatshirt proclaiming Bilbo as the property of the local historical prison. 

That evening, three days before New Year's Eve, he and Thorin had been sitting in 'their' chairs in the living room, both reading, when Frodo and Sam came into the room and sat together on the couch. Bilbo didn't look up. 

"There's food in the fridge, I'm not making something new just because you're suddenly hungry." When they didn't respond, he glanced up. "Okay, what then?"

Frodo sat on his hands. "Well, Rosie and me and Sam were talking and Rosie wants to invite us to dinner."

Bilbo shared a confused look with Thorin. "You had dinner at her house just last night."

They caught each others eye and Sam shoved Frodo with his shoulder. Frodo sighed. "Not us. Well us, too, but you. She wants to have you meet her parents."

Bilbo's eyes caught on Thorin's and they both snickered. "Oookay. I've known Lily all my life," he said. "Is there something going on I should know about?"

"No," Frodo said, eyes wide. "Of course not." He stood, dragging Sam up with him. "When do you think?"

"I need to catch up on some things at home," Thorin said suddenly. "I could do that tomorrow, and you could go then?" He'd closed his book, keeping his place with a finger. 

Bilbo closed his own book, feeling a little rushed. "I guess. I hadn't thought about … sure. Tomorrow, kids?"

Frodo and Sam nodded. "That's great, Uncle Bilbo," Frodo said brightly. "I'll text her right away." They thundered back down the hall and Bilbo sat back in his chair.

"Huh," he said. "That's not quite what I expected." Across the little oval braided rug, Thorin leaned forward, a sly smile on his face.

"It's always exciting to meet the other in-laws."

Bilbo crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. "Or maybe they're going to tell me that they don't want their little girl to be friends with boys, that they think Frodo and Sam are somehow harming her. Not everyone from my home town is as nice as my parents. This could be a problem."

Thorin shrugged. "If it is, it's their problem. She's getting old enough to make her own decisions – she's what, nearly eighteen?"

"Sixteen, Thorin. They're all just sixteen. Yes, that's old enough to drink in Britain, but we're in California. They're _kids_."

"Given the kind of mayhem I got up to at sixteen, I think a little multiple dating – or whatever they're doing – isn't so bad." Thorin grinned at him, wiggling his eyebrows. "I'd have been thrilled out of my skin to have a cute boy _and_ girl friend at Frodo's age."

Bilbo sighed. "Well, yes, I guess. I just … " He ran a hand down his face. "Sure you don't want to come along? You'd be delightfully distracting."

Thorin smirked. "I don't think they'd appreciate the kind of distraction you mean."

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "Smartass." He stood up. "Turns out, I could stand do to a little baking. Want to come into the kitchen with me and pick cookie recipes?"

Thorin left after lunch the next day, saying he'd be back that evening, and making Bilbo promise to call if he needed anything while Thorin was out. Bilbo waved him off and spent the next two hours in his office, reading over chemistry journals he'd been putting off. 

After reading the last article three times and not being able to follow the conclusions the researcher was trying to point out, he put the journals down and went to have a snack. The house was empty – he thought that Frodo and Sam must be at Sam's house – so he made himself a sandwich and a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table, looking out into the back yard. 

The christmas lights were up, but not on and he smiled as he remembered how bright they looked and how happy everyone had been that evening. 

Just then, Sam climbed over the back wall. He looked around Bilbo's yard, as if checking to make sure he was by himself, then walked carefully past the yard furniture to the sliding glass door. He reached for the door handle, saw Bilbo sitting on the other side of the door, and jumped. After a moment, he pulled the door open and stepped through.

"Yes, Sam?" Bilbo wasn't sure what was going on. Sam looked positively spooked.

Sam dropped his jacket on the back of a chair and sat down opposite Bilbo. He looked around the kitchen, lips pressed together, glanced sideways at Bilbo, then sighed. 

"So I did what you asked." Sam's voice was low. 

"What I asked?" Bilbo didn't remember asking Sam to do anything.

"I looked for you online, for stuff about you and Thorin." Sam laced his fingers together. "There's some stuff I think you should see." 

Bilbo felt a rush of cold sweep through his body. "Okay. Now?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe not. I mean, we're about to go to Rosie's, and then it's nearly New Year." He rubbed his nose. "It's not, like, urgent. Just, stuff you should look at. Places you can check on yourself, keep track of."

They sat silently for a minute or two, then Bilbo pulled in a deep, deliberate breath. "There's nothing threatening, right? I mean, my address isn't out there, or anything about Frodo?"

Sam shook his head. "Not about Frodo. But everyone's address is available, it just depends on where you look and if you're willing to pay. It's amazing how much information is online."

Bilbo found himself unimpressed. "Ah. Well, as long as I'm not going to find crazed stalkers at my front door, I guess it's not anything too urgent."

"Oh, no, that's not likely." Sam twitched in his chair, then stood up. "Did you make cookies?"

"I'm bringing the seed cake to Rosie's house, but there are cookies in the container on the counter and I'm sure there's something more substantial in the fridge." Sam smiled and opened the fridge, rummaging through the leftover potato salad and baked chicken. He pulled out the chicken and some bread and Bilbo shook his head. 

"Should I even bother asking if you'll still be hungry for dinner later?"

Shortly after that, Bilbo packed up the food he was bringing and Frodo and Sam and drove the half hour to Rosie's house, listening with amusement as the boys argued over something to do with a set of pictures they'd seen online about one of their favorite movies. They hadn't come to any conclusions by the time they arrived, but Bilbo felt as if he'd had a sudden education in comic book history.

Rosie's parents came bustling to the door; her mother Lily gave Bilbo a friendly hug and her father shook Bilbo's hand enthusiastically. Rosie hovered behind them, her face a little pink. 

Frodo and Sam followed behind Bilbo, then pushed past him and up the stairs. Rosie stood, irresolute, at the foot of the stairs, but her mother just shooed her along, saying she'd call them when dinner was ready.

"Thank you for inviting me, Lily," Bilbo said. He handed Lily the paper bag he'd brought with the seed cake. "I brought this, I thought you could have itfor breakfast tomorrow, if you like. There's a pot of my mother's strawberry jam in there as well." 

Lily peeked into the bag. "Honestly, Bilbo, your mother's jam. And is that your grandmother's seed cake? I never could get the recipe from her." She eyed him. "Maybe I'll have better luck with you."

At her side, Tolman laughed. "Now Lily, let the poor man be. He's got to have _some_ secrets, right?" He gestured to the room through the door at Bilbo's right. "Why don't you and I settle in the parlor and Lily can bring us the coffee and scones she's been fussing over." He patted her on the backside and jumped sideways to avoid her elbow. 

Bilbo laughed and followed him into the parlor. He could see, through a half-closed door, another room, obviously the one the family spent more time in. The parlor was very neat, with matching chairs and a small over-upholstered love seat, all crowded around a low coffee table. There were two large photographs on the wall – the first was of Lily and Tolman at their wedding and the second was them, several years later, surrounded by their five children, the youngest still in a long white dress on Lily's lap. 

Tolman sat on the love seat and waved Bilbo to one of the chairs. "So, you're teaching up at the college, then?" 

Bilbo nodded. "Chemistry, yes. Is Rosie thinking of going there?"

"Oh yes," Lily said from the door, carefully balancing a broad tray with a coffee pot and several plates and cups on it. Her husband jumped up and helped lower the tray to the table. "She's got her eye on a degree in Marine Biology, she says. Tom's there now, but he's doing political science, I'm sure you'll not have seen him."

Bilbo paused after adding cream to his coffee. "That's right, Rosie's second, isn't she? I'd lost track." He took a scone and balanced the little plate on the arm of his chair. "How old's Tom, now?"

They discussed children, gardening, and the difference between raising children back home and here in the big city, and Bilbo found himself relaxing. 

"So we were wondering," Tolman said, interrupting Lily as she asked Bilbo if he used locally sourced manure for his tomatoes. He pinked as she glared at him, but cleared his throat. "We were wondering if you knew what's going on with our girl and your two boys."

"Not that they're _yours_ exactly," Lily said, suddenly apparently uninterested in vegetables. "But, well, you've got them for now and we rather thought we'd ask."

Bilbo had just taken the last sip of his coffee and he swallowed against a sudden lump in his throat. "Ah, I'm not sure exactly what you mean." He knew he was hedging, and by the expression on Lily's face, she knew it as well.

"Bilbo Baggins, I've known you since we were tots together. Don't try that face on me." She leaned forward, shoving the crocheting she'd been working on aside. "Our Rosie's sweet on those boys and I want to know if they're serious about her."

Bilbo blinked. "The two of them?" 

Tolman flicked his fingers at Lily. "I told you he'd not know. He's a Baggins, they can't see anything that's not traditional."

"He's half Took, and he's _here_ , isn't he?" she snapped.

Bilbo chuckled. "No, I'm sorry." He put his plate and cup back on the tray. "I just hadn't expected the question, that's all. As far as I know, they're both very serious about Rosie. _Very_ serious."

Lily nodded sharply and sat back, but Tolman looked piercingly at him. "And you'd know this how, exactly?"

Bilbo smiled. "Because they both came to me separately and asked me for advice. Sam didn't want to lose Frodo's friendship, but he knew he was in love with Rosie, so he didn't know what to do, and Frodo figured that since Sam was in love with Rosie, there was no hope for him with either." He shrugged. "They seemed to have worked it out sometime around Halloween, I think. I'm not exactly sure." 

Lily and Tolman's fingers laced together between them. "Well, that's settled then," Tolman said. "How about dinner?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the song I imagined Fili playing, to settle everyone down: [Demons](https://youtu.be/d0BEAfPSj58) and here's another harp cover, this time of [Radioactive](https://youtu.be/mxeoYJKdM6o).  
> This is the sort of music the harp can play. [Celtic Harp](https://youtu.be/WTe6t6eyUQ4) I love the harp, can you tell?
> 
> Here's the lamp on Thorin's bedside table. [Tiffany Lamp](http://www.niallmullenantiques.com/news/tiffany-lamps/) I'll leave it to you to decide if he's got an actual Tiffany lamp or just a reproduction.
> 
> And here's a meaning for Wisteria — Welcome; Youthful; Meeting you means so much to me


	43. Forty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The New Year brings unexpected news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry. Bring tissues.

Thorin stayed at his house that night, but was back at Bilbo's for New Year's Eve. In the evening, Lily Cotton swung by and picked up Sam and Frodo; she declined to come in for a cup of coffee, but waved happily as her carful of kids made enough noise to be heard through the closed car windows. 

Bilbo found himself and Thorin drifting to the kitchen; once there, he handed Thorin one of his lesser used cookbooks and told him to pick out something to try. 

"But," Thorin started, "I don't know what ingredients you have, so what if I choose something you can't make?"

Bilbo shook his head and tugged at a small handle in a narrow space between the end of the counter and the wall next to the kitchen table. He watched in delight as Thorin's jaw dropped at the long narrow set of pantry shelves slid out. 

"So," Bilbo said, leaning casually on the counter, "I've got a pretty wide range of stuff, and if there's something really obscure then we'll just pick it up after the new year and try it then." He turned back to the pot of black eyed peas he had bubbling on the back of the stove and gave them a stir. 

Eventually, Thorin picked a Basque cake, lemon rosemary shortbread, and linzer cookies. Then, while Bilbo gathered ingredients, he stood and examined the rolling pantry. 

"Dis would love this," he said. "Did you have it installed? How much did it cost?"

"Not as much as it should have," Bilbo said, explaining that his family had helped pay for it as a house-warming gift. The conversation shifted to families and Bilbo told Thorin what his dinner at the Cotton's house had been like. By then, dinner was ready and they continued their discussion over a thick mushroom and sausage tart with roasted brussels sprouts and kabocha squash. 

Bilbo peeked into the oven. "Dessert will be ready in about half an hour," he said, standing up to find Thorin had snuck up on him. Thorin's hands were warm as they slid into Bilbo's hair at the base of his neck.

"Mmm," Thorin said, mouth a hairsbreadth from Bilbo's, "I think I can find something to keep you occupied in the mean time."

Bilbo smiled and leaned into the kiss. In the end, the timer on Bilbo's phone went off before they remembered anything except each other.

Bilbo cut thick wedges of the cake, setting them onto the good china his grandmother had given him when he'd moved to the city. _I guess this goes with coffee._ He started to ask Thorin if he wanted coffee, but heard a muffled _pop_ and turned around. 

Thorin was pouring champagne into two of Bilbo's large glass mugs. He grinned sideways at Bilbo and said, "Why waste time with the little flutes? It's not as if we're going to keep any for later."

They ended up eating their dessert on Bilbo's bed, a thin summer quilt spread over the heavy duvet to catch crumbs. When Bilbo checked the time, it was nearly midnight; he carefully shifted the empty plates and nearly empty glasses out of the way and leaned forward. 

"Just to be clear," he said, "let's make sure we're doing something at midnight that we want to be doing all year long." Thorin's answering smile was dark and full of promise.

The next morning, Bilbo woke up slowly. He was warm and comfortable; one of Thorin's arms was draped over him and Thorin's nose was buried under Bilbo's ear. _How can he breathe under there? And I've got to get up just for a second._

He carefully wriggled out from under Thorin and trotted to the bathroom. Once he'd washed his face and peeked back in at Thorin, curled up around Bilbo's pillow, he tugged on his dressing gown and went to make breakfast. Half an hour later, as he meditatively slipped eggy slices of bread into the hot pan, he felt Thorin's arms slip around his waist. 

"You abandoned me," he said, clearly trying to sound sad. "I woke up all alone."

Bilbo snorted, reaching forward to slide a spatula under a corner of french toast. "You lead such a hard life. My heart just breaks. You'll have to bury your sorrows in the coffee pot." Thorin immediately dropped his arms and stepped across the kitchen. "Faithless," Bilbo said, laughing. 

Thorin just waggled his eyebrows and poured sugar in his coffee. 

They spent the morning in the living room, trying to decide what to do with Bilbo's last few days of vacation. Bilbo had just stood up to re-fill their coffee cups when he saw the time.

"Shit," he said, "Frodo'll be back soon. Come on, get dressed." He hurried through his shower, pulling on a tee shirt and old jeans while Thorin did whatever it was that took him so long in the shower. Bilbo thought it must be the long hair. 

He was halfway through making a fresh pot of coffee when the doorbell rang. Sighing, he trotted down the hall to the door, talking even before he opened it.

"Frodo, did you forget your – oh. Uh, hello?"

Two men in dark suits stood at the door. One had a manila folder under his arm; both were unsmiling and serious.

"Can I help you?" 

"Are you Professor Bilbo Baggins?" one asked. 

"I am," Bilbo said, feeling confused.

"We're with the Bureau of Consular Affairs. May we come in?" Their voices were oddly similar, though they didn't look alike.

"Bureau of …" Bilbo blinked. "Of course, please. Ah, would you like some coffee and cookies?" He led them to the living room and gestured to the couch and chairs. "Have a seat, I'll be right back."

On his way back to the living room carrying a tray with his silver coffee service and several plates of cookies, he heard the shower stop. _Oh good, maybe Thorin will know what's going on. Now that I think about it, this must be for him._

He slid the tray onto the coffee table and lifted the coffee pot. "Do you take cream and sugar?"

The two men shook their heads. "Thank you, Professor," the one with dark hair said, "but we won't want coffee. Now – " 

"Oh, but Thorin'll be done in just a minute," Bilbo said, listening to the thumps coming from the down the hall. "Why don't you have something while you wait?"

"Professor Baggins," the blond said, leaning forward. "I am Mr Saali and this is Mr Mila. We are from the Bureau of Consular Affairs." He reached forward and handed Bilbo a business card. "Please sit down."

Bilbo sat, feeling suddenly very nervous. "What's this all about?"

Mr Mila cleared his throat. "We regret to inform you, Professor Baggins, that the yacht the Brandywine has been found capsized roughly 100 miles east of the Philippines. All efforts were made, but unfortunately there were no signs of Mr and Mrs Baggins."

Bilbo looked back and forth between the two men, who were looking back at him with solemn expressions. "But," he tried, "this is ridiculous. We heard from them …" he trailed off, trying to think. "It must have been just around Thanksgiving. They were in Australia. They weren't anywhere near the Philippines. There must be some mistake."

Mr Saali opened the manila folder he'd been carrying, took out a large photograph and turned it to show to Bilbo. It showed the Brandywine, mast torn away and sail dragging in the water. There were bits of debris around the boat and part of the side was smashed in. BRANDYWINE was clear in the photograph, curving elegantly along the back of the yacht.

Bilbo recoiled, shoving the photograph back. "Wh – but that can't be right. Surely …?" 

"Bilbo?" Thorin's voice echoed down the hall. "What do you want for lunch? Frodo'll be hungry, so let's … Uh, sorry." He'd reached the living room and stopped, three steps into the room. 

Bilbo turned to him. "These men, um," He couldn't remember their names over the buzzing in his head. "These men are from the Bureau of something from the government and they say that Drogo and Prim … that… " He stopped, suddenly seeing nothing except the way the railing of the ship in the picture had been smashed. 

He felt warm hands on his face and blinked to see Thorin kneeling in front of him. "Bilbo?" Thorin's eyes were calm. "Bilbo, breathe with me." He pulled in a breath and let it go, slowly. Bilbo followed along, feeling the burning in his chest suddenly release. After a couple of breaths, Thorin shifted and slid up to the couch so he was sitting pressed tightly against Bilbo's body.

"Now," he said, his voice low and deep and soothing. "Why don't we try this again. Where are you from?" He'd taken both of Bilbo's hands and was holding them between his own. 

The two men glanced at each other, then Mr Saali nodded. "We're from the Bureau of Consular Affairs," he said and, to his surprise, Bilbo felt Thorin stiffen.

"Ah," was all he said and for a moment the room was entirely silent. Then Thorin sighed and said, "So, what do you need? Are there papers we'll need to prove Bilbo's identity and how do we get any effects, if there are any." 

Bilbo turned to him. "You can't be – how do you know this stuff."

Thorin's lips tightened, but he said, "Frerin." and Bilbo felt his heart stop. _Then that means that this isn't a joke. Oh god, oh … Prim._

Mr Saali opened the folder again, setting the photographs aside. Underneath were a few papers; they appeared to be forms and official looking documents. "We'll need these filled out – do you have identification, Professor?" At Bilbo's nod, he continued. "Once these are finished, we can start obtaining the death certificate. Will you want to have the boat returned as well?"

Bilbo stared at him. _Have the boat returned where?_

After a moment, Thorin replied, "Yes, we'll want everything. Ah," he leaned a bit forward, looking into Bilbo's face. "May I look at the photographs?" 

Bilbo nodded, still not sure he could speak. Thorin slid one hand away, extending the fingers of his other hand to wrap around as much of Bilbo's hands as he could. He picked up the pictures one by one, looking at each quickly.

"We'll want the boat, un-cut if possible, but the mast and sail are a complete loss, so don't bother with those. Anything – everything from inside the boat, if you please, and the small debris that was collected from the water, if any." He stared down at one of the pictures, his jaw clenched. "I think that's all."

He stood, pulling Bilbo up with him. "Bilbo," he said, looking directly into Bilbo's face, eyes searching his. "Bilbo, you'll need to fill these forms in as soon as possible. Let's go into the kitchen. I'll get you some tea and you can fill in the forms." He glanced away and Bilbo felt his chest begin to ache again. "Please," Thorin said, "help yourselves to the coffee and cookies. We." For a second his voice was strained. "We just baked them yesterday."

In the kitchen, Bilbo let himself be tucked into a chair. Thorin moved around the kitchen – Bilbo heard water running, then the beeping of the kettle as it was turned on – then he sat down across from Bilbo. 

"Oh Bilbo," he said, his lovely voice rough. "I'm so sorry."

Bilbo looked up at him, feeling a calm curiosity. "Why are you sorry? What have you done?"

The corners of Thorin's mouth tipped downward. "Come on," he said. "The water's nearly done. Let's get these papers out of the way, then let's go back to bed and I'll hold you for the rest of the day."

Bilbo nodded and turned to the forms. He couldn't hear much; the noises Thorin was making at the other side of the room were muted and fuzzy. When he looked up from the papers, the kitchen seemed slightly distant, as if he were looking at it through the wrong end of a pair of binoculars. 

Thorin put a large mug of tea next to his elbow and sat down again, tugging the first of the forms closer to look at it. "Good," he said, "I think there's only one more, right? Have some of your tea, then fill in the last few bits." 

Bilbo picked up the mug, taking a large sip. It was hot in his mouth and going down his throat, but he just coughed and set the mug down again, returning to the form.

After a moment, he came to the end of the page and turned it over. The back was blank and he shoved the paper away. Thorin turned it back over and glanced at it.

"Good," he said. "Now let's give them back their papers." He wrapped an arm around Bilbo and Bilbo wondered why Thorin felt so warm when everything was so cold. 

In the living room, the coffee pot and plate of cookies lay untouched. The two men were seated in the same positions as they'd been when Bilbo and Thorin had left the room and Bilbo caught himself wondering if they were robots and only moved or spoke when they had people's lives to ruin.

Thorin drew him to the couch and sat down with him again. He reached across and handed one of the men the forms. "That's everything you'll need," he said. "I'll be helping Bilbo – Professor Baggins – with this. If you need to contact us," he paused and looked around. The blond man held out the manila folder and a pen. "Ah, thanks," Thorin said, jotting something down. "There's my email and Professor Baggins', and my phone number." 

Bilbo wondered why everyone was speaking so slowly and softly. 

Suddenly, the sound of a key in the front door cut through everything and Bilbo gasped. _Frodo!_

"Hey, Uncle Bilbo," Frodo called, loud and cheerful, "there's a really ugly car out front."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you care, the recipe for Basque Cake is here: [Basque Cake](http://www.lottieanddoof.com/2014/04/lottie-doof-amanda-rockman/)
> 
> I haven't made it, but I'm surely going to! It looks amazing.


	44. Forty Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a hard chapter. I'm sorry.

Bilbo shot to his feet, staring at the door. "Frodo," he said, but nothing came out of his mouth. He coughed, then tried again. "Frodo. Please … " _Should he come in here? Should we do this in the kitchen?_

Frodo stuck his head through the door and nodded at the two men. "Hi. Nice to meet you." Then he turned to Bilbo and grinned. "Hey, can I go over to Sam's?"

Thorin was still sitting on the couch; his hand, warm and strong, closed around the back of Bilbo's calf and Bilbo sucked in a breath. "Frodo," he started again. "Let's go to my office, okay?"

Frodo looked confused, but he shrugged and started down the hallway. Bilbo hesitated for a second, then took the folder with the pictures in it and followed him. Before he left the room, he turned back. 

"Please, Mr … ah, right. Please do have some coffee and cookies." He nodded sharply, but their faces were a blur and he left, the hallway stretching out in front of him. 

In Bilbo's office, Frodo had thrown himself down into the small, battered loveseat Bilbo kept there for when he needed to read long papers without being distracted. He looked up as Bilbo shut the door behind them. 

"You look like crap, Uncle, didn't you and Thorin sleep at all?" He waggled his eyebrows broadly. 

Bilbo sat down next to Frodo, holding the folder in front of himself. For one minute, he wasn't sure he could talk at all. Then Frodo's increasing worried look jolted him into action.

"Frodo, I want you to remember that I love you very much, okay? Everyone who knows you loves you."

Frodo leaned back, his eyebrows rising nearly to his hairline. "Oookay, who died?"

Bilbo felt his heart stop for one terrible second. "I'm afraid," he attempted, then stopped. "Your parents boat was found capsized near the Philippines," he said. "Those two men, they're from the government – I think ours, but now I realize I didn't ask. They said something about being from a Consul … or, that's not right, the Bureau of Consular Affairs." Bilbo forced himself to stop talking. _That's not important._

"What?" Frodo was pressed so hard against the back of the loveseat he'd practically pushed through it to the wall it was up against. "Bilbo, that's a fucking terrible joke."

Bilbo looked down at his hands, just now realizing they were shaking. "I'm so sorry, Frodo, god, I'm sorry. I'm not joking, this…." He let the folder fall open and found the picture he'd first been shown and held it out to Frodo. "Here. They say they couldn't find them anywhere."

Frodo shoved the picture away without looking at it. "Then they're not dead," he cried. "They're just somewhere else. Just because they're not on the boat doesn't mean they're dead."

Bilbo felt cold and small. "Frodo, the boat's smashed badly. The mast is broken and the sail's in the water." He looked at the next photo down and recoiled. It showed the interior of the cabin; he'd seen it when Drogo and Prim had been ready to set out and it had been a marvel of efficiency and beauty. Now it was destroyed. The floor was covered in clothes and broken things Bilbo couldn't even identify. _How hard does a ship have to be hit by something to make everything fall out of all the drawers?_

"How could it get smashed up?" Frodo demanded. 

Bilbo realized he hadn't asked how the boat had capsized. "I don't know, Frodo," he said, "but it's certainly the Brandywine. I don't know what they were doing near the Philippines either, but that's where the boat was found."

Frodo stared at him, face locked in fury. "Then they're lying, those men. There's something they want. They're _lying_."

Bilbo sighed and put the picture back in the folder. "They're not, Frodo. Thorin knew what they were here for before they told him. His brother died, many years ago, in a foreign country, and these are the same … people from the same place told him." Bilbo felt something fall onto the back of his hand and realized he was crying. "I'm …" He dropped the folder and reached for Frodo, who was now shaking his head hard. 

"Oh Frodo, I'm so very sorry. I loved your parents so much." Bilbo pulled Frodo into his arms, but Frodo was stiff and unyielding. 

"If you loved them, you wouldn't give up on them," he said, pushing Bilbo away and standing, leaving the room in a rush. Bilbo covered his face, then stood, gathered up the folder and its scattered contents, and followed Frodo from the room. He stood in the hallway for a moment, then heard Frodo's voice from the living room. Bilbo turned in that direction.

"If you can't find their bodies, that means they might not be dead," Frodo was saying. Bilbo heard the sound of someone responding softly, then Frodo's voice came again. 

"They're _NOT_ , they're not, you can't … just … they're coming home. They _promised._ " 

Bilbo made it into the room just as Frodo collapsed to the floor. Bilbo fell with him, dropping the folder and wrapping his arms tightly around Frodo. Frodo was sobbing; his hands clenched in the back of Bilbo's shirt and he buried his head into the nearest part of Bilbo he could reach.

Bilbo could hear Thorin's deep voice saying something and then he and the two men stepped carefully past them and through the door. Some unknowable time later, Frodo's tears slowed and he pulled away slightly, one hand still clutching Bilbo's shirt. 

"Oh Frodo," Bilbo said softly, wiping his cheeks with a hand.

"How'd it happen?" Frodo asked, his face turned slightly away. Bilbo opened his mouth, but Thorin coughed, making them look up. He was sitting on the floor near them, one of Bilbo's trays next to him with a teapot and three cups on it. 

"Mr Mila said that the Philippine authorities think that they got caught in Typhoon Hagupit." Thorin's voice was soft and he poured the tea. Bilbo saw that he put in more sugar than Frodo usually liked in his.

Frodo took his cup and drank half of it without stopping, then he made a face at the cup. "What's a Hagupit?"

Bilbo looked up from his teacup. " It was a typhoon. Like a hurricane, only in the Pacific. It was a big deal earlier this – last month, now. They were worried it was going to be as bad as Haiyan, but it turned out to be weaker by the time it hit the islands. Didn't they call it something else in the Philippines? Rose or something? " 

"Ruby," Thorin said. He looked at Frodo. "I want to say that I am very sorry, Frodo. I'd hoped to meet your parents – they were clearly very special people."

Frodo nodded, but didn't look up from his cup. 

That night, after Frodo had gone to bed, Thorin and Bilbo sat on the couch in the living room. They'd looked at the pictures of the destroyed boat, but Bilbo pushed them away after going through them. He rested his head against Thorin's chest and sighed. 

"You were close to them, your cousins?" Bilbo could more feel Thorin's voice than hear it. 

"They're both younger than I am, but they were my favorites. Prim especially." Bilbo closed his eyes and turned his face into Thorin's body. "Frodo's a lot like her. Very bright, very funny, but he's got his father's steadiness as well." 

Bilbo fell asleep there, with Thorin slowly stroking his back.

Three days later, Bilbo deliberately closed his laptop and set it on top of a stack of chemistry texts at the side of the desk in his office. "You are staying right there," he told it. "I am going to ignore you for the rest of the day. I don't care who emails me about the funeral." 

In the kitchen, he looked in the fridge, then at the coffee maker and the stove. With a sigh, he pulled out a container of bolognese from the freezer and stuck it in the microwave. While that was spinning slowly around on the glass plate, he filled a pot with water and turned on the heat. Rubbing his hands over his face, he went down the hall to Frodo's room.

"Hey kiddo," he said, tapping on the door. "I'm making spagbol for dinner. It'll be done in about twenty minutes. We have to talk about school, okay?" 

"I'm not hungry," Frodo said. "And I'm not going to school. What's the point?"

Bilbo leaned his head on the door jamb. "I know, but we've got to eat. And you have to go, kid. It sucks, but school's not negotiable."

Frodo grunted and Bilbo went back to the kitchen to finish making dinner. When they'd both finished eating as much of it as they could stand, Bilbo scraped the leftovers into the trash. He sighed and sat back down at the table. 

"School starts tomorrow for both of us. I've emailed your homeroom teacher to tell him, so you won't have to. Have you made arrangements with Sam to go together?"

Frodo shook his head without looking up from the table.

"Have you talked to Sam since …" Bilbo sat up slowly, watching the way Frodo's hands tangled together.

"No. I don’t want to see anyone." Frodo's voice was flat and Bilbo pressed his lips together.

"I'm going to go talk to him, Frodo – have you told him anything at all? He should know."

"Whatever. Can I go now?" Frodo stood up and left the room without waiting for Bilbo's response.

At Sam's house, Bilbo sat through Hamfast and Bell's condolences. _At least they're sincere._ After half an hour, Bilbo asked if he could talk to Sam outside. He and Sam stood in Sam's back yard.

Frodo _had_ told Sam about his parents, but had then said he didn't want to see Sam, so Sam had been staying home. Bilbo sighed and rubbed his face. 

"He needs you, whether or not he thinks so," Bilbo said. "Can you come and spend the night, then go with him to school tomorrow?"

***

Bilbo's own first day back at work was bad. Classes weren't any harder than usual, but his temper was shorter and he could tell he was distracted. Finally, halfway through his first lecture, he stopped and turned to the class.

"Listen," he said. "No, don't take notes, this isn't about class. I just wanted to say that I've had a death in the family and I'm a bit on edge right now, so if I've snapped at you, I'm sorry." He stared hard at the ancient peeling Periodic Table on the back wall of the classroom and ran a hand through his hair. "Now then." He clapped his hands together sharply. "Let's get back to dealing with the radical carbon."

He made it through the rest of his lecture but he could tell that the rumor mill had worked well enough, because several students in his other classes caught up to him and offered condolences in the corridor as he walked toward his office.

He found Beorn in the office when he got there. The large man looked up and smiled at him as he dropped his stuff and sat down at his own desk. 

"I heard what happened," Beorn said, his voice gravelly. "I'm sorry. I lost my parents when I was already an adult – how is your young charge taking it?" He had Shelob cupped in one hand and stroked her gently with the fingers of his other hand.

"Not well, but that's no surprise. I don't know if it's worse that they died so far away or better. I mean, god, that sounds awful, but …" Bilbo closed his eyes for a second. "There is _so much_ involved in dealing with this, so many people to notify and so much paperwork. And everyone in the family has some reason why the funeral should happen one way or another. At least without actual bodies, there's no desperate hurry."

Beorn chuckled. "I wondered if my parents would somehow come back to life if I didn't fill out everything correctly and everyone kept insisting that every form had to be perfect. For a few days I hoped that if I did it wrong, then even their deaths would be invalidated and things would go back to the way they'd been. Every single form asks the same things, and yet they're all different and I still don't know why." He shook his head. "I can't imagine it's easier if you have to deal with foreign paperwork as well." 

Bilbo snorted slightly. "Oddly enough, that part's not too bad. The guy at the Consular Affairs place has been really helpful. He's set up everything in the Philippines and he's arranged the return of the boat and its contents as well. That part's easy."

Beorn looked at him, heavy brows pulling together. "You're having the boat returned? That'll cost a lot of money, won't it? Are they sailing it home or is it being put in a container?"

Bilbo stared at him, taken aback. _Cost? Shit, I didn't think of that._ "I … I don't know what it's going to cost. Dammit, Tho – someone else agreed to it and I didn't think anything of it at the time. I don't even know how they're getting it back." He bit his lips together from the inside, then pulled out his phone and made a note. _I'll have to call Thorin and find out what he was doing._

Beorn shrugged. "Do you know what you're going to do with it, when it's back here? Do you have a slip for it?"

Bilbo felt his neck twinge. "No. Thanks. I hadn't thought about any of that. I'll have to find out about that as well, and now that I really think about it, I don't know how long it's going to take, either. _Crap._ "

Beorn stood, idly dropping Shelob into one of the large pockets of his coat. "I've a lab section now, but if you ever want to talk about things, I'd be happy to help." He patted Bilbo on the shoulder as he left. 

"Thorin," Bilbo said softly to the empty room, "what the fuck were you doing?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Typhoon Hagupit](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Typhoon_Hagupit_\(2014\)) wasn't as bad as Haiyan, but it wasn't good either.


	45. Forty Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tolkien has many poems which speak of passing on and (possibly) of mourning, but I must say, I like this one the best:
> 
> Journey's End  
> In western lands beneath the Sun  
> The flowers may rise in Spring,  
> The trees may bud, the waters run,  
> The merry finches sing.  
> Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night,  
> And swaying branches bear  
> The Elven-stars as jewels white  
> Amid their branching hair.
> 
> Though here at journey's end I lie  
> In darkness buried deep,  
> Beyond all towers strong and high,  
> Beyond all mountains steep,  
> Above all shadows rides the Sun  
> And Stars for ever dwell:  
> I will not say the Day is done,  
> Nor bid the Stars farewell.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today…"

_to get through this thing called life._

Bilbo felt as if he'd somehow become stuck in time. He'd been making funeral arrangements forever; he remembered that there'd been a life before this, before all the tedious and miserable formalities, but he couldn't quite remember how it felt to _have_ that life.

And now his brain was supplying him with completely inappropriate song lyrics.

Frodo slumped next to him on the pew; Bilbo sighed at his blank expression. A little beyond him, Drogo's mother clung to her daughter, Dora. Ruby had tried to hug Frodo, but he'd stood like stone in her embrace, and finally she let go only to turn and sob on Bilbo's shoulder for nearly half an hour; he had a guilty thought that he almost wished he could get away with Frodo's rudeness. Dora had smiled at him sadly as she peeled her mother away from Bilbo. 

_I wish Frodo would open up, even a little._

Sam sat stolidly next to Frodo, not even bothering to look up at the front of the church. He'd spent nearly every day at Bilbo's house, either in Frodo's room or following him around. Bilbo knew that he and Sam were the only reason Frodo ate and he thought Sam might be physically making sure Frodo bathed.

The church wasn't full. Bilbo had snuck a glance back to the door just as the preacher walked to the pulpit and saw that the family group only filled the first few rows of seats. Merry and Pippin sat in the row behind Frodo and Sam; they wore new black suits and hadn't offered to misbehave even once. They'd tried to joke, just a little, one afternoon at Bilbo's house, but nothing seemed to be able to bring Frodo out of his despair.

As the preacher regarded his audience, Bilbo looked away to the two large photographs of Drogo and Prim smiling out at everyone which stood on either side of the pulpit. The pictures had been taken just before they left; they'd said they wanted to record themselves "before", and then they'd have matching photographs taken when they were done, to be the "after". They'd laughingly anticipated grey hairs and wrinkles from having to do all the work of sailing the ship. 

Their brilliant smiles felt like mockery now. The photographs had been badly photoshopped so that Prim and Drogo were separate images. Bilbo had a copy of the original hanging in his hall; the two of them had been standing, arms wrapped around each other's waists, with Frodo standing in between them holding their other hands.

"Death has come to our precious Drogo and Primula, as it comes for all of us."

_Electric word, life._

Bilbo flinched at hearing Prim's full name and saw Frodo and Ruby do the same. Closing his eyes, he laced his fingers together and did his best to ignore the preacher's voice. It didn't matter what anyone called Prim now, she was beyond being called anything.

He'd seen Lobelia a couple of times as he'd driven back and forth from home in the city to Hobbiton to arrange things which somehow couldn't be organized either on the phone or online. She hadn't spoken to him, either time. The first time, she'd simply nodded at him from across the grocery store aisle and the second, all she'd done was stare as he walked through the doors of the courthouse. He didn't know whether to be grateful or worried. 

Everyone else in Hobbiton had been kind. Drogo's brother had kept Bilbo over tea for hours, talking about Drogo and thanking Bilbo for taking on the work of the funeral. He'd said several times that he missed Frodo dearly and asked after him, but Bilbo noticed that he never offered to take the boy to live with him. 

Ruby had offered to have Frodo stay with her; the same day Bilbo had been in the grocery store, picking up milk and cheese and bread for his mother, Ruby followed him from the shop. She'd asked how Frodo was doing and asked if Bilbo thought he'd be better off moving back to Hobbiton. "Coming home" was how she'd expressed it, and Bilbo found himself trying to hide his unexpected repulsion at the idea. He'd said something about not disrupting any more of Frodo's life right now, which made Ruby start crying again; he'd caught Dora's eye over Ruby's bowed shoulders and she gave him a firm nod. 

"Our lives and the lives of our loved ones are rooted in a profound mystery, past our understanding. In the face of eternity, we are made simple."

_It means forever and that's a mighty long time._

The preacher led the funeral service outside, to stand around the empty spaces where Prim and Drogo's bodies would have been, if there'd been any to bury. Their headstone stood stark and razor edged next to their nearest neighbors, which had already begun to clothe themselves in a gentle softening of moss. 

Bilbo had no idea why the preacher thought going outside was a good idea for a group which contained many people well into their seventies. Hobbiton's weather wasn't quite as cold as it could get nearer the coast, but it was still early January and the wind bit everyone's face red in very little time. 

Frodo stood a little away from everybody else. Bilbo tried to stand behind him, but he'd moved off and Bilbo stopped following him. He had a momentary flash of bitter humor at the mental image of Frodo bolting and the entire crowd following him, baying like hounds after a fox, but then Frodo's bloodless face and fingers twisted tightly together made the image all too realistic. 

Bilbo felt his mother and father come up behind him. They stood close to him, then stepped next to him, one on either side. 

"It'll be okay, dear heart," his mother whispered into his ear. 

He bit the inside of his lip and nodded. "Right."

As the preacher droned on, Bilbo thought about the last time he'd talked to Thorin. He'd spoken to one of the two men from the Bureau of Consular Affairs about shipping the boat home and had been horrified to hear the cost. Thorin hadn't seemed to be at all surprised or upset; in fact, he said that he'd expected it to be much higher.

"Seven _thousand_ dollars, Thorin, not counting any random fees they didn't tell me about," Bilbo said, one hand pressing the phone to his ear and the other pressing his eyes closed. He could see flashes of light where he was pressing too hard. "How the hell am I going to find seven extra thousand dollars? And then I'm going to have to find a place to keep it – Thorin, I don't have that kind of money."

Thorin was silent for a moment and Bilbo's hand dropped from his eyes, suddenly understanding all too well. "Oh, no, Thorin, that's … you can't just pay for things for me. It's … it's not fair."

"If this gives Frodo the chance at having something of his parents', something which otherwise would be sold as salvage or scrap, then it's worth every penny to me." Thorin was silent again, then he sighed deeply. "It's not as if I don't have the money, Bilbo. Please. Let me do this for him. For you."

Bilbo's eyes stung, and he blinked them open, startled to see the preacher, still in love with his own voice. _Who chose this man, anyway? I know I wasn't the one who dealt with this part._

"Let consolation and strength come to their grieving family and in the fullness of time may tender memories enable them to triumph over their sorrow." 

_But I'm here to tell you, there's something else. The after world._

The preacher appeared to be winding down. He sent a glance to someone Bilbo couldn't see. The crowd shifted slightly as the unknown person wiggled through. It was one of the younger kids, Bilbo couldn't remember which branch of the family this little boy belonged to, but his curly hair and wide ears made it clear he was a Baggins. He held up a large covered basket and the preacher took it, smiling at him and ruffling his hair. 

The preacher opened the basket and took out a a small bouquet. Bilbo heard his father suck in a sharp breath. 

"What?" he whispered. His mother shook her head once as her eyes filled with tears. 

The preacher handed the first of the bouquets to Frodo, who nearly didn't take it. Bilbo saw the preacher's hands fold Frodo's fingers closed over the ribbon-wrapped stems and press down. Frodo's gaze moved from the furthest corner of the cemetary to the little bundle of flowers in his hands.

The preacher then moved through the group, handing more of the bright bundles of flowers to Ruby Baggins and her surviving children, Dora and Dudo, then to other people in the group. The recipients appeared nearly random, after Frodo's direct family, but Bilbo saw Lobelia receive the last of the bouquets. The way she smiled at it, then at him, made his teeth clench.

"What does the bouquet say," he muttered to his father.

Bungo stepped closer, as if he were giving Bilbo a shoulder to lean on. "Most of it's fine, but the mock orange flower isn't. Either she's stupid, which I doubt, or she's accusing someone of lying."

Bella leaned in. "Or she's just a raving bitch and wants to hurt people's feelings. Lucky Ruby's too distracted to read."

Bilbo glanced over and saw Dora carefully take the bouquet from her mother's hands. She looked down at the two flower bundles she held and, as Bilbo watched, her face whitened. 

"Ah, Dora's learned to read them as well," Bungo said. "I thought she might know – she's worked at the library for nearly ten years now."

Lobelia shook her hair back from her shoulders and stood proudly. Her face was smooth, but Bilbo could read her pleasure at the dismay her gesture had caused.

"The light of life is a finite flame. Like a candle, life is kindled. But soon it fades, its substance is consumed, and it is no more."

_A world of never ending happiness, you can always see the sun, day or night._

The preacher had them place the bundles at the foot of the headstone and led the group back into the church. Bilbo stood back, watching as people filed past. Most people didn't have bouquets, but he saw that many of them left little things at the headstone anyway. By the time nearly everyone had gone past, the grave was decorated with flowers, several small bright pebbles, and a few little toys. His eye was caught by a flash of white with letters on it and he bent to see what had been left.

"Stealing from the dead, Bilbo?" Lobelia's voice dripped acid. "That's low, even for you."

Bilbo straightened, his hand cupping the small wooden boat he'd seen. Behind Lobelia, Otho looked worn and tired. 

"Why, what a thing to say," Bilbo said, feeling a sudden rush of anger and sorrow, "when everyone has been so kind and generous. The flowers, for example, I believe were your idea, correct?"

She flushed. "Well, _someone_ had to, and you'd clearly forgotten." She smiled at her bouquet, which she hadn't left on the grave. "And it's not like I don't mean everything it says. One should be honest, you know." She turned on her heel then staggered slightly as the sharp tip of her high heel caught in the wet ground. With a sniff, she yanked at her foot, then strode off into the church.

Otho gazed after her, then looked back at Bilbo. "I'm very sorry," he said. "I liked Drogo and Prim. Frodo looks bad. Is he – "

"Otho! Stop dawdling. Everyone's _waiting_." Lobelia stood in the church door, her arms crossed tightly. Otho flinched and scurried away.

Bilbo looked down at the toy boat he held. _Brandywine_ was painted across the back of the boat, in careful, tiny letters. He sighed and, feeling as if every part of his body ached, bent to put the boat back at the foot of the headstone. 

Back in the church, he sat between his parents, and listened to the preacher finish talking. He was listing things that Prim and Drogo had done, their accomplishments and achievements, and Bilbo felt his previous sense of unreality flowing back. Lists like these weren't supposed to be read for people so young.

"Though what is past cannot be altered, the unformed future lies before us. Let us accept its challenge with courage, remembering that for the living, life is to be cherished as a sacred obligation."

_'Cause in this life, things are much harder than in the after world._

Everyone stood and rustled around, gathering their things to move up the hill to Brandybuck Hall, where the memorial and reception was going to be. The preacher stood back from the pulpit and bowed slightly to Frodo, who was staring up at him, face slowly flushing an ugly red. Bilbo stood, followed closely by Sam and Bella, and stepped between Frodo and the preacher.

"Come on, love," Bella said, taking Frodo's arm and hooking her hand through his elbow. "Let's have that bouquet, you can't want to hold it for now – no don't worry dear, I'm not going to keep it, I'm just going to hold it for you. Shall we press it after all this is over?"

Frodo looked at her, a spark of something in his face. "Press it?" 

Bilbo saw Sam collapse back onto the seat, his face crumpled. Bilbo caught his father's eyes; Bungo nodded and followed placidly along behind his wife and Frodo, offering his heaviest and strongest books to make sure the bouquet was preserved for as long as possible.

Bilbo sat down next to Sam and put an arm around him. Sam immediately turned into Bilbo and pressed his forehead hard against Bilbo's shoulder. "It's just," he wheezed through harsh sobs, "that's the first thing he's said in days."

Bilbo, holding back tears himself, wrapped his arms around Sam. "I know, kiddo. Thank god for my mother." Sam laughed wetly and pulled away.

"I got … there's a wet patch, sorry." He wiped his nose on his hand and Bilbo huffed a laugh, feeling a little wet himself. 

"No bother. The suit's been damp before. Here." He pulled out two handkerchiefs from his pocket and handed one to Sam. "Keep it. We'll probably need them today."

When they walked into the Hall, the noise was tremendous. Sam blinked a bit, then shrugged at Bilbo. "I'm going to find Frodo," he said. 

Bilbo nodded, staring morosely out the door. "See that he eats, okay?" Sam dove off into the crowd and Bilbo closed his eyes. 

_In this life, you're on your own._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used this site, [Victorian Bazaar](http://www.victorianbazaar.com/meanings.html) for the flower meanings. They are:
> 
> Cyclamen: Resignation and Goodbye  
> Forget Me Not: Memories  
> Crimson Rose: Mourning  
> Sweet Pea: Departure  
> Mock Orange: either Memory or Deceit 
> 
> (Is it any surprise that the meaning of Lobelia was 'malevolence'?)


	46. Forty Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things just keep getting worse.

Bilbo moved through the crowd, looking for his parents. As he slid around the different groups, he caught snatches of their conversations.

"… don't think that was very sensible, I mean …"

"… nice young man. Too bad he can't stay there."

"… wouldn't drink, dear. It's only three in the afternoon." 

Bilbo spotted his mother, sitting at Frodo's side on a little love seat in one of the smaller parlors. He stood for a moment, watching his mother's face. _She hasn't looked that sad since our old cat died._ With a sigh, he crossed the room to them.

"Hey mom, Frodo," he said, crouching down. "Can I get you anything to eat or drink?"

Bella shook her head. "Thanks, but your father's gone off with Sam to make us some plates." She looked away from Frodo and smiled at Bilbo. "How are you holding up?"

Bilbo shook his head and sat backwards onto the floor with a thump. "Tired, thanks. I wish I hadn't let Camellia choose the preacher – he was awful." A plate materialized in front of him and he looked up to see his father smiling down at him. "Thanks, dad," he said. 

Sam sat down on Frodo's other side and set his own plate on the arm of the seat, then pushed the little plate of food he'd gathered for Frodo into Frodo's hands. Frodo stared down into his lap as if nothing else existed.

Sam sighed and took the plate back, then handed a small sandwich to Frodo, who took it listlessly. "Come on, Frodo," Sam said, "have a bite of that. It's salami." Frodo didn't move; Sam jostled his elbow and Frodo lifted the food to his mouth, chewing and swallowing mechanically. He did manage to continue to eat the food Sam filled his hands with, but Bilbo, looking at Sam's face, could see how worried Sam was. 

A small commotion at the door made Bilbo twist around. He caught a glimpse of Lobelia's bright yellow shawl past the three people walking into the room. Bilbo had assumed Prim's siblings had been at the church, even though he hadn't seen them. He was only surprised they hadn't come up to talk to Frodo there, but thought that at least they'd come to talk to him now.

"Asphodel," Bella said, "how are you doing? Rufus?" 

"Oh, as well as can be expected," the other woman said, stepping carefully around Bilbo. She sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs in the room; she'd been followed by her husband, a short man with thin brown hair. "This is all so dreadful. You know, we never thought they should go on this silly trip." 

Bilbo scrambled up and gathered the plates, setting them on a low table near the door. 

"Oh, I don't know," Bungo said slowly, watching Frodo, "it is a tragedy, and I'd certainly wish things were different, but the trip wasn't silly."

Frodo arms were folded tightly across his chest and his head was bent. Bilbo stood behind him and rested one hand on his shoulders, surprised at how thin he was under the shirt. He rubbed gently with his thumb. When he looked around the room, he noticed that Frodo's aunt and uncles were sitting facing Frodo and Bilbo's parents, as if they were opposing them.

"We're all very upset," Bilbo said, "but we'll get through this together." 

"Ah, about that," said the third person who'd come into the room. Bilbo tried to figure out which of Prim's siblings he was. "We've been discussing who should take Frodo and I don't know that I can." He raised his eyebrows at everyone else. "What? I can't. I'm never home, you all know that, and it's not like Frodo'd like being with me anyway. I just thought I should say it up front." He leaned forward, putting a hand on Frodo's knee. "It's not that I'm not sad, my boy, but I'm just not a good option. Call if you need anything, though." 

Asphodel had put one hand up to her forehead. "Really, Dodinas, that's what you came here to say?" She rubbed her eyes and sighed deeply. "Okay, fine, we didn't think you'd be a good choice either, but…" She crossed her legs and leaned back. "Thanks."

She folded her hands together and leaned forward, looking at Frodo. "Now Frodo," she said, "I'm sure you'd like to know what we've decided for you." She waited a moment, but when Frodo didn't move or say anything, she shrugged and continued. "Rufus and I would have liked to have you come to us – Milo is at an age where he'd enjoy having an elder brother, and we could use the time to ourselves – but Rory said that he and Gilda expected to have you."

Bungo coughed, and Bilbo realized that, except for the one thing Asphodel had said to Bella, they'd all ignored the Bagginses. He turned to his mother, who was glaring at Asphodel. 

"Surely now isn't a good time to discuss this," Bungo said, one hand on Bella's leg. Bilbo saw that he was gripping tightly enough to make his fingertips white. "And honestly, doesn't it make more sense for the boy to stay with Bilbo? He's already enrolled in school there, and he's comfortable and has friends there. That can only be for the best." 

"Oh, but that's – " Asphodel started.

"Right then," Bella said sharply, standing and dragging Frodo with her by dint of wrapping one arm under his and yanking. "I'm going to take my nephew – _yes,_ Dodinas, I know he's not technically my nephew, your tendency towards pedantry couldn't be less well timed if you tried, honestly." She paused and Bilbo could see her gritting her teeth. "Frodo, Sam, and I are going to go to my house, where they'll be staying the night. There's no need to make this sort of decision now, and especially not in front of Frodo without giving him time to grieve." She swept the three Brandybucks with her gaze. "I'm ashamed of you, all three of you. I can't believe you thought this was appropriate." 

The silence after she left was short-lived. After a moment, Dodinas slapped his hands on his thighs, then stood. 

"Well, I'm going home. The service was excellent. Very correct." He nodded at the rest and left.

Bilbo walked around the love seat and collapsed into it where Frodo had been sitting. He felt a bit like he'd opened a door into an unexpected windstorm. 

Asphodel pursed her lips. "Do you agree with her?" 

"About what?" Bilbo ran a hand down his face. "About the fact that the way you've done this is terrible? Yes, I do. What were you thinking, coming up to a boy who's just lost both his parents and telling him that he's either going to go live with you to be a companion for your kid or he can go live with his eldest uncle, who he barely knows and who doesn't have any kids his age anymore." He found himself shaking slightly. "I talked to … to Prim and Drogo before they left and they said he should stay with me. Why are you changing that?"

Asphodel glanced up at her husband. "Well, we read their will – " 

"Wait, when?" Bungo looked confused. "The Bagginses weren't told probate was started."

"Oh, we glanced over it before Rory submitted it to the court for probate. The fees this county charges for probate are outrageous. Anyway, it didn't say anything about where Frodo goes. I mean," she waved a hand, "Frodo gets pretty much everything, of course, but they didn't put down where he should stay." She shook her head. "Prim was always a bit scatterbrained."

Bilbo felt a sudden pain in his shoulders and realized he was grinding his teeth. "How about we focus on the will. When will the beneficiaries and others be notified? When did Rory file the will?"

"Oh are we going to have the reading of the will now?" Lobelia stood in the door, her face bright and inquisitive. "Because if so, I think it would be best – most honest, you know – if that were arranged for a time when everyone involved is able to attend."

Asphodel blinked at her, clearly at a loss; her perplexed expression made a completely inappropriate bubble of humor rise in Bilbo's chest. He caught a similar expression on his father's face and bit the inside of his lips.

"Why would you be involved?" Asphodel asked.

"Well," Lobelia said, seating herself in the chair Dodinas had abandoned. "I'm a Baggins. Or, I'm going to be."

Bungo smiled thinly. "You're going to be a _Sackville-Baggins_ , my dear, and you're _not one yet_."

"I don't see how that signifies." Lobelia tilted her chin up and pulled her shawl more tightly across her chest. "Otho would never refuse to share his part of the inheritance with me."

"No, but really, Lobelia," Asphodel said, "why do you think you and Otho would be inheritors?" She looked as if she smelled something slightly unsavory. "Prim was a Brandybuck and Drogo was a Baggins. You're a Bracegirdle and Otho's family isn't connected at all."

Lobelia's face twisted. "But what about their _house_? Who gets that?"

The sound of Rufus' shoes as he shifted was startlingly loud in the room's silence. After a moment, he said, "I've looked the will over, Ms Bracegirdle – " 

"Doctor. I'm _Doctor_ Bracegirdle." Lobelia looked mulish.

"Yes, of course. Ah, I've read through the document and you weren't mentioned in any fashion, Doctor Bracegirdle." Rufus shrugged, looking unconcerned. "As this is true, there is no reason for you to concern yourself with the disposition of any of young Frodo's inheritance."

Lobelia stood. "I understand," she spat. "You're all determined to keep things from me, things I deserve as a member of this family. I thought this is how you'd all act, I told Otho, I _told_ him that you'd be like this, but he didn't believe me." 

Bilbo caught a small movement out of the corner of his eyes and looked up to see Otho in the doorway. He lifted his shoulders a bit as he saw that Bilbo had seen him, then he stepped to Lobelia's side. 

"Come along, dear," he said, putting an arm around her waist. "There's something I'd like you to look at just along here." He led her from the room; the sound of their voices bickering started as soon as they passed through the doorway.

Bilbo groaned. "Asphodel, why are you trying to move Frodo? He's happy at my house and I love having him there. You know I don't need anything from whatever his parents have left him. I can support him easily. What's the problem with leaving him with me?"

Asphodel pursed her lips. "Well." She looked down at her hands. "You're not exactly family, are you?"

Bilbo raised his eyebrows, but before he could say anything, Bungo interjected. "You know as well as I do, Asphodel, that we are family. Not directly, necessarily, but we're first cousins to that boy. And he's never spent time with Rory. And Rory and Gilda raised their two boys already. Why do they want to have another teenager?"

Asphodel stood, brushing down her slacks. "I've no idea. As I said, I thought I'd have him; he'd be very good to have, for Milo's sake, if nothing else, but Rory seems set on taking Frodo in." She walked to the door and said over her shoulder, "You could ask him. I know he's still here."

Bilbo and his father stared at each other for a few moments, silent.

"Well, fuck," Bungo said.

"Eloquently put, dad." Bilbo closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "This whole thing sucks."

The party seemed to be going strong, when Bilbo and Bungo left the room. It seemed as if most of the actual mourners had left already, and the people left didn't see any reason to waste the food and drink; there were many people standing around chatting about daily life and inconsequentialities.

Bilbo saw Pippin and Merry standing against a wall near the food. To his surprise, they didn't look happy and they weren't holding plates of food. 

"I'm going to chat with those two," he told Bungo, nodding at them.

"I'll see if I can find Rory," Bungo said. "I'll let you know if he says anything interesting."

Bilbo gathered a plate with a few things on it – he hadn't eaten that morning and knew that if he didn't eat more, no matter how little eating appealed right now – he'd feel terrible later.

"So boys, why the long faces?"

They looked at him, then Pippin's face shifted to fury. "I heard that _bitch_ Lobelia say that Frodo shouldn't get his parent's house, that she and her stupid _fiance_ needed it more than he did. And then I thought I heard some other woman, I couldn't see who it was, say that Frodo was going to have to move _here_." He looked around the room they were in, which was large and pleasant. "But why should he move? He likes it at your house."

At his side, Merry crossed his arms and glared at his shoes. "This whole thing is shitty."

Bilbo suddenly felt better about everything. _Things won't be so bad, if these two rascals are on our side._

"Ah," he said, "there does seem to be some unexpected discussion about having Frodo move in with his mother's oldest brother, but I'm sure we can figure out a more reasonable solution. I'm happy to have him live with me." He smiled. "Anything to keep you guys playing that ridiculous game."

Merry looked up at him. "Promise?" He waved his hands back and forth. "I don't mean about the game, it's just a game, but promise you'll keep him? I don't know what he'd do if he'd have to move."

"Well, I'm certainly not going to let him go without a fight, boys. My home is his home, you know that." Bilbo looked back and forth between them. "Has he said something to you two about it?"

Pippin shook his head. "I don’t think it occurred to any of us that he might have to move. Until today, of course. I mean, this is so weird. Why would he move in with his uncle? He'd have to change schools. And what about Sam and Rosie?"

_What about Sam and Rosie, indeed._

Bilbo's phone buzzed and he glanced at it. 

_To: Bilbo, Dad  
From: Mom_

_Hey, can you come home? I think Frodo could use the family time._

_Mom  
_

Bilbo looked up at Merry and Pippin. "I've got to go – Frodo's gone to my mom's house and I think it's time I followed. We'll see you two soon, right?"

Pippin lifted his chin. "We're not leaving him alone. All for one and one for all, right, Merry?" 

Merry nodded firmly. "He can count on us."

Their bright faces and promise of support seemed very thin when he and Bungo got back home.


	47. Forty Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to unravel after the funeral.

Bilbo drove home through the darkening evening; the lights of the city grew from a distant star field to brilliant smears of light next to the freeway. Finally, he turned up his own street, then pulled up in front of the house. For a long moment he sat in the car, hands on the wheel, eyes closed, just breathing.

_I'll have to get Frodo and Sam in and then I can just collapse. That's all._ He opened his eyes and unlatched the seatbelt. "Come on kids, time to get to bed. School tomorrow. For all of us." 

As they came up the walk, Bilbo looked up and saw that his lights were on. The front door opened and Thorin leaned out, his face grave. 

"I thought you might like to have something warm to drink before going to bed," he said as they shuffled off their coats in the foyer. "There's hot chocolate in the kitchen for everyone." 

Sam brightened, and even Frodo looked less disinterested than he had recently. Before Bilbo could follow them down the hall, Thorin pulled him close and wrapped his arms tightly around him. 

Bilbo stood stiff for a second, then melted against Thorin's chest. They stood silently for several minutes; after a moment, Bilbo realized that Thorin was gently rocking them back and forth. He pulled in a deep breath, feeling parts of his back and neck relax for the first time in days.

"Okay," he said, face still buried against Thorin, "let's go have some of that hot chocolate."

An hour later, Frodo was in bed and Sam had gone home. While Bilbo changed to soft cotton pants and an old tee shirt, Thorin stayed in the kitchen. Bilbo ended up in the living room, lying half-sprawled on the couch when Thorin came in carrying a plate filled with cookies and a bottle of wine.

He rested the cookies on Bilbo's stomach, poured them both large glasses of wine, then sat at the other end of the couch and lifted Bilbo's feet into his lap. 

"Now," he said, "Tell me everything." He sipped from his glass then rubbed his thumbs up and down the center of Bilbo's left foot. 

Bilbo groaned. He hadn't realized just how sore his feet had been – the pressure of Thorin's thumbs sent tingles up his legs. "Oh god," he said, "that feels so good. Never stop." Thorin chuckled and Bilbo continued. "It was terrible. I don't know who picked the preacher – Drogo's family offered to do that part, but the guy they found was dreadful and had never met either of them." 

He ran a hand over his face. "So it was inaccurate and weirdly out of touch with who they were and what their lives had been like and just … god, Thorin, the worst." He ate a cookie and sighed. "No, that's not even true. It wasn't the worst. Lobelia made up little floral bouquets and used them to tell everyone that she thinks she's being lied to."

"Lied to? What the hell? Who's lying to her and why?" Thorin looked baffled.

"I think," Bilbo said, after drinking some of his wine, "I think she means something to do with the will, but she's not even _in_ the will." He paused and took another sip, startled to find that he'd nearly finished the glass. "Not that anyone except Prim's siblings have seen the will, which is – I admit – very odd. You'd think that it gets read out publicly, like the way things happen in books and movies, but no, apparently not."

Thorin shifted under Bilbo's legs, then said something soft and Bilbo charged on. "So, there was this dreadful service, half of which was outside in the fucking freezing cold." He reached for his wine glass and took a sip, careful not to spill, as it was nearly full. "Then he had a little Baggins boy – oh, don't look at me like that, Thorin, surely you've got little cousins or something who've got the family ears but who you've never met? So this cute kid handed out the bouquets and my dad and Dora could both read them. Lobelia looked so pleased with herself." He took another cookie.

"How does one read a bouquet? Were there little tags on them or something? Words on the ribbon?" Thorin shifted his attention to Bilbo's other foot. 

"Ribbons? No, the flowers mean things." Bilbo struggled up to his elbows to look at Thorin, shoving back a little bit so he could sit up more. "Don't you … no, probably not." He smiled pensively into his half-empty wine glass. "I learned flower language as a kid, but that's really because my dad's a botanist and my mom's into codes. They used to leave all sorts of notes to each other around the house in flowers, but that stopped when – " Bilbo laughed. "Well, I asked mom, one day, why she'd given dad a bouquet with tuberoses, jasmine, lantana flowers, and pea blossoms. I didn't understand why my Aunt Linda turned so pink. The flower talk stopped after that and dad started teaching me about what they mean."

Bilbo looked up and Thorin was grinning at him. "So," he said, taking a cookie from the nearly empty plate. "What was your mom saying? Let's get it on?"

Bilbo grinned back, feeling warm and loose and relaxed. "Yes, actually." He smirked at Thorin's expression of disbelief. "Okay, so tuberoses stand for dangerous pleasure and voluptuousness. You've met my mom. She's, uh," he gestured vaguely at his own chest and snorted when Thorin nodded. "Right, so there's that, then jasmine is sensuality, lantana is rigor, and everlasting peas are lasting pleasure." He drained his wine glass. "So there you have it. Fuck me hard and long, with a side-order of play with my tits. It's no wonder Auntie Linda blushed. I'm surprised she didn't leave immediately."

Thorin was staring at him, his mouth slightly open. After a long moment, his expression shifted from bemusement to delight. "Can you teach me?"

Bilbo laughed. "I've got three books in my office you can borrow, if you like." He let his head fall backwards against the arm of the couch. After a moment, he lifted it again and squinted down at Thorin.

"But that's not even the worst part," he said.

"That your mom and dad were sending each other sexual innuendos with flowers?" Thorin had shifted to rubbing Bilbo's calves; his fingers were curved slightly, pressing into the meat of Bilbo's legs.

"It looks like Frodo will have to move back to Hobbiton, to live with his uncle. His mother's eldest brother."

Thorin froze, staring at Bilbo as if he'd suddenly started speaking another language. "What?" he said. "That can't be right, why can't he stay here? You're his uncle as well."

Bilbo pulled in a breath, hearing the way his throat tried to close around the air. "I'm not, exactly. He's my first and second cousin, once removed." He groped around for the wine glass and made a face when it was empty.

"I don't … first _and_ second cousin? How does that work?"

"Drogo and I share great-grandparents and Prim and I were actual direct cousins – her mother and mine are sisters." Bilbo ran a hand over his face. "There's a lot of odd family connection in Hobbiton and the local towns. It's a funny place." 

Thorin leaned forward. "But why does this mean that Frodo has to move? Does he want to?"

Bilbo shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I think I know why his family wants him to move back – Gilda's sweet as honey and I don't think that Rory's really a bad guy, no matter what his sister's like – but I don't know what Frodo wants. He's barely speaking and half the time I think he'd forget to eat if one of us didn't make him." 

"He's not getting better?" Thorin sounded tired.

"No." Bilbo sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. "Let's go to bed – are you staying tonight or do you have to get back?"

Thorin stood up and pulled Bilbo to his feet. "I'm staying. I'm sorry that I have to do this other stuff right now. I'd put it off if I could."

Bilbo leaned into Thorin's chest and nodded. "It's okay. You have a life and a job."  


A week later, Bilbo sat in his office at Lorien and stared out the window. The trees here weren't as brown as the ones near his house – and nothing at all like how sad the ones on his campus looked. _I wonder where Lorien gets their water._

Someone tapped on his half-open door and he turned to see Galadriel looking at him through the gap. 

"May I come in?" She waited for him to nod, then swept through the door and closed it behind her and sat down in one of the other chairs in the room. "How have you been doing? I understand that there have been some personal difficulties recently."

He looked guiltily at the files spread across his desk. "Ah, yes, two of my cousins just died. Or," he paused, feeling a bit tangled. "They died in the Philippines, in Typhoon Hagupit. I'm … well, their son was staying with me and he's taking it very hard." He straightened the files and clicked randomly on something in the Lorien folders on his laptop.

Galadriel put a hand on his arm. "Please, Bilbo, don't worry about what you're doing here. Nothing here is so urgent that we can't wait for you to grieve." She smiled at him and he wondered who she'd lost to have such a sad expression in her eyes.

"Thanks." 

They sat silently for a moment, then she said, "Your charge is unhappy?"

He grimaced. "He's devastated. I mean, I understand it entirely. Both his parents, all at once, and far away. We hadn't even heard from them regularly, so hearing about their deaths was a real shock. And," he paused, then shook his head. "And there aren't any bodies, so there's nothing for him to … see, you know. To come to grips with. I think he's secretly hoping that he's having some bizarre, extra-long nightmare. Not that I can blame him for that." He sighed. "He's not talking much."

She nodded. "It is especially hard to lose one's parents when one is young. Would he be willing to talk to someone else, do you think? Someone entirely unrelated?"

Bilbo shrugged. "A therapist? I don't know. I mean, I'm willing to try, if it'll help Frodo, but I don't know if he'd be willing to talk to anyone."

"I'll send you contact information for someone who's very skilled at helping people who are in need. His name is Elrond Peredhil." She stood. "And as for your work, feel free to take a break, if you need it. You are a part of Lorien, now, and we value your personal strengths as well as your expertise at the lab bench."

After she left, Bilbo stacked the files neatly and slid them into his bag. Then he opened a new document in his word processor and started typing.

_This fucking sucks. I can't do anything to help Frodo. I don't even know if I can keep him – I don't think I can._

That weekend, he got an email from Rory which said that he and Gilda were looking forward to having Frodo stay with them. They'd re-done one of the upstairs bedrooms for him and had talked to Brandy High School about when Frodo could start. They wanted to know if Bilbo could tell them the email addresses of Frodo's teachers so they could figure out what classes he'd be put into.

Bilbo tried to send a return email, but nothing he said sounded right. Finally, he just asked them why they wouldn't let Frodo stay with him.

He got a response the next day. This email contained pictures of the bedroom and a link to the high school.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: OldRory_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_Thank you for taking Frodo, especially for so long. You're very kind to do so. It must have been hard on you to change your life to include a child, especially a teenager. I imagine it'll be a bit of a relief to get your old life back._

_We've made arrangements at the school – it's smaller than the one he's going to in the city, and he'll be with people who've known his family all their lives. Some of the teachers taught his mother and I, so he'll be in good hands here._

_I know you've said that he likes it there, but we think that he should be home with family. This is a hard time for all of us and he shouldn't have to rely on sympathy and kindness, not when there are people who love him and are happy to take him in. Especially as it's much safer here than in the city. We keep up with the news and there's always something so awful happening out there – better he should be here, where life is so much more secure._

_My Gilda's already knitting up a storm and I expect she'll have made several quilts for him by the time you see him next._

_Shall we come and pick him up at the end of this coming week? That way he'll have the weekend to settle in and get ready to make new friends._

_Yours,_

_Rory  
_


	48. Forty Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One week isn't very long.

Seven, Saturday

Bilbo sat down at the kitchen table and sighed. It wasn't quite dark out – heavy cloud cover hid the moon, but it reflected the light from the hundreds of streetlights and cars, making the sky a bilious orangey shade of grey. 

"Well," he said out loud, "it's not like you didn't know he'd have to move back home." The fact that he'd expected – they'd _all_ expected it to be back home with Prim and Drogo – had nothing to do with it. This was just what he'd signed up for as temporary guardian.

Thinking about it logically didn't make it feel better. He stood up, flicked on the lights and turned on the oven. Surely it wouldn't hurt to bake something for the morning, right? 

A gentle tapping sound woke him. He blinked blearily, confused to find himself in the kitchen; the tapping sped up and he turned to see Sam tapping at the sliding glass door.

Rubbing his face and groaning, Bilbo let him in. 

"What's up? Here to spend time with Frodo?"

"You're not really going to let him go, are you?" Sam wouldn't look at him. 

Bilbo sighed. "I don't really have a choice, Sam. I don't have legal standing to keep him and I'm not really his uncle, so I'm not his immediate family." He looked at the defiant expression on Sam's face and sank into the chair he'd apparently slept in. "If his parents had said something in their wills, or if Frodo asked, we could maybe do something, but without those things, he's going to his family." 

Bilbo paused, looking at the piles of cookies and scones he'd baked during the long night as a way of avoiding the devastation on Sam's face, then closed his eyes and shook his head. "And we have to stop making it harder on Frodo. I know we'd like him to stay here, but they _are_ his family, Sam, and they do love him and want the best for him. It's not fair of us to think about only what we want. We have to focus on what's best for Frodo, even if it's …" He ran a hand over his face and shrugged. 

"Now go wake him up and I'll make something hot for breakfast, okay? There are a lot of scones for you to choose to have with eggs."

Six, Sunday

Bilbo leaned back as Pippin threw a roll across the table. "Stop that," he said. "Just because you get away with that sort of mayhem at home doesn't mean you can have a food fight here." At Pippin's attempt at an innocent expression, he started laughing.

"Nice try, but still no. Now," he looked around the table, caught Thorin's eye and smiled. "Okay, dig in." For the next few minutes, there wasn't any sound besides the 'ting' of silverware and low murmurs as people asked for dishes which were at the other end of the table. 

He was trying not to think of this as The Last Party, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this was the end of something irreplaceable. Thorin had made barbacoa, and Bilbo'd roasted a lamb haunch he'd gotten from the expensive butcher in Berkeley. He'd made a big pan of roast potatoes and vegetables and steamed brussels sprouts and carrots as well. There was bright salsa, made with hot-house tomatoes, for the barbacoa (though Bilbo saw that Fili was spreading it on the garlic bread); there was fresh mint sauce near the lamb and lemon garlic butter for the carrots and sprouts.

After dinner, the adults brought coffee and Bilbo's pastries to the living room and settled down to talk, while the kids all ended up in Frodo's room, where they seemed to be having a lively game of something judging from the bursts of laughter. Bilbo stayed in the kitchen, slowly putting the leftovers away and washing the dishes which couldn't go into the dishwasher.

"Hey," someone said from the door, "how are _you_ doing with all of this?"

Bilbo turned to see Fili leaning against the door, compassion on his face. "Oh," Bilbo said, "I'm doing okay. I mean…"

Fili shoved off the door jamb and ambled into the kitchen. "It sucks, is all. And I noticed that everyone seems to be working hard to keep Frodo feeling okay, and no one's keeping track of you." Thorin's laugh boomed down the hall and Fili cocked his head. 

"I'm fine," Bilbo said, closing his hand tightly around the knife handle he was washing. "The situation is awful, but there's really nothing I can do about it, so …" He breathed in and out, then continued. "So I'm fine."

Five, Monday

"Frodo, have you talked to your teachers about sending your school records to your new school?"

"No, and you can't make me." Frodo glared at the passenger side view mirror of Bilbo's car. "If they want me to move, they can do it."

Bilbo sighed, but privately thought that Frodo was right. It wasn't really something Frodo should be doing. He wondered why Gilda or Rory hadn't done it themselves or had the new school contact Bard directly, as they'd said they would do. 

"I'll do that, then, talk to Bard, okay?" He glanced away from the road at Frodo, who'd transferred his glare to the glovebox. When Bilbo parked in front of the high school, Frodo grabbed his bag and took off, slamming the car door so hard the car rocked. 

Bilbo pressed his lips together, then got out of the car himself. After checking in at the school's office, he found the room Bard shared with one of the other teachers. Bard looked up from his pile of papers and glanced at his computer, looking a bit confused.

"We didn't have an appointment and I forgot it, did we?" he asked.

"No, but something's come up and I need to talk to you." Bilbo shut the door behind himself and sat down across the desk from Bard. "It's about Frodo and his future."

Bard slowly lowered the folder he'd been stuffing with his paperwork. "God, something else? That poor kid. I'm sorry about his parents."

"Thank you. It's been rough." Bilbo paused, feeling more uncomfortable than he'd expected to. "The thing is, I'm not really his uncle. I mean," he hurried on at Bard's suddenly stiff expression, "I'm a relative, but not that close. I'm a first and second cousin, once removed. On both sides. First on one and second on the other." 

Bilbo closed his mouth firmly, took a breath, then started over. "I was good friends with his parents and Frodo's always called me uncle, so it was just easier to let the slight stretch of relationship stand. Only, now that his parents are …" Bilbo blinked hard. "Now that his parents are dead, his actual uncle is taking him. I mean, he's going to live with him."

Bard looked at him expressionlessly for long enough to make Bilbo feel like squirming, then he nodded sharply. "That would explain the rest of what Frodo's been so upset about, then."

Four, Tuesday

At the grocery store, Bilbo filled his cart with food, without thinking about it. It wasn't until he got to the register that he realized that he'd bought enough food for himself _and_ Frodo for two weeks. Gritting his teeth at the immediate and now familiar rush of dismay at having Frodo move away, he bagged everything in the cloth tote bags he'd been collecting at conferences for years and tossed it all in the cart to bring to the car. 

_There'll just be more food in the freezer. Nothing wrong with a well stocked freezer._

Frodo looked at the bags in the back of the car and his shoulders slumped. "You'll never eat all of this."

Bilbo turned and wrapped his arms around Frodo, hugging him tightly. "You're such a good kid. I can't wait to see who you grow up into." Frodo's arms came up and tentatively curled around Bilbo, then suddenly he was holding on so tightly Bilbo couldn't breathe for a second. They stood there, resting against each other, for several long minutes, then Frodo pulled away. 

"Sorry," he muttered. Bilbo caught his chin and looked directly into his eyes.

"I love you, Frodo. I don't know that I've told you that, but you're as much my son as anyone is ever going to be."

Frodo dropped his head and shifted on his feet. "Then why are you giving me up?"

Bilbo reached for him, but Frodo backed up. "Okay kiddo," Bilbo said, "let's get in the car and go home." When the car was moving, Bilbo sighed deeply. "The thing is, Frodo, I'm _not_ direct family, your uncle's right about that. And it looks like your parents didn't say anything about where you should stay if … " He waved a hand in the air. "So, legally, kids go to the closest relatives. I think your grandmother might have wanted you, but she's a bit too old."

Three, Wednesday

Bilbo found the little road and turned down it, relishing the way the trees made the road shimmer in the thin winter light. "Why'd we come here?" Frodo asked, sounding less furious than had become common and he peered up into the tall trees near Bilbo's parking place. "And where is here?"

Bilbo smiled as he saw one of Haldir's men fading into the shadows between the coastal cypresses. "Come on, kid. I'm going to show you my lab here at Lorien and then there are a couple of people I'd like you to meet."

They walked along a narrow path through another stand of trees to the little room that Bilbo had been assigned for times he had to stay late. Frodo stared, eyes and mouth agape at the tiny one room house up in the second set of branches of the stout tree. There were others – Bilbo had heard someone refer to them as 'flets' – in the trees nearby. "You have a treehouse?" Frodo sounded more excited than he had in weeks.

"Let's go up," he said, smiling. They climbed the stairs built around the tree's trunk and Bilbo watched as Frodo looked through the heavy branches and found the other flets. When they got to Bilbo's door, he grinned at the way Bilbo unlocked it by touching his fingertip to a darker twist of wood in the carved door. After a few seconds, there was a click and the door popped open.

"That's cool," he said, "a secret lock." 

"Actually," Bilbo responded, "it's set to my fingerprint and something in my DNA, I'm not sure what. Galadriel just laughed when I asked her." He smiled at Frodo's interest and closed the door again, pulling it until it locked. "You try it." Frodo looked even more pleased when the door wouldn't open for him. 

Later, when they met with Galadriel over dinner in a small room off the main dining hall, he was amazed when she handed him a wooden box. She pricked his finger and let one drop of his blood fall onto a small metal circle, then twisted something Bilbo couldn't see and the circle disappeared under an elaborate carving. 

"It's keyed to you now," she said. "I thought you might like to have some place truly private to keep your thoughts and small trinkets." 

Two, Thursday

"I've been thinking," Bilbo said to Frodo's silence in the morning. "I think it might be good for you to have someone to talk to about things, someone who's not part of the situation."

Frodo recoiled. "A _therapist_? I don't need a shrink, Bilbo. What the hell?"

_Well, at least it's the reaction I expected._

"I've asked him to come to the house this afternoon – he was recommended by Galadriel. He said that he'd talk to us together, and then just to you for a while." At Frodo's stony expression, Bilbo shook his head. "This isn't negotiable, kiddo."

"They'll never pay for a therapist, especially some super expensive one." Frodo shrugged, looking defiantly at Bilbo, who smiled sadly.

"Yeah, nice try, I already thought of that. I'm paying and I really want you to try this, okay? I know it feels awkward, but it's important to talk about stuff. Oh, and you have to start packing, okay?"

"Fine, whatever." Frodo stormed down the hall. Bilbo rubbed the back of his neck. 

Later, the doorbell rang while Bilbo was in the kitchen trying to decide which leftovers they should have for dinner. For one horrible moment, he had a horrible flashback to New Year's Day and had to slump over the sink for a second.

Dr Peredhil was tall and slender; he wore a pale grey suit under a rich chestnut brown winter coat. He seemed grave, but kind; Bilbo saw his eyes fill with compassion as he greeted Frodo. They sat in the living room, over tea and cookies. 

"I understand you might not be entirely invested in this," Dr Peredhil said to Frodo, "but I promise that I will not become intrusive. Look at me, and our conversations, as a way to say things which you might be unwilling or unable to say to those around you – a venting opportunity. Only," he smiled, "one who might be able to help you figure things out if you get stuck."

Frodo eyed him, uncertainty clear on his face. 

One, Friday

"Frodo," Bilbo said, looking around Frodo's room. "You have to pack your things. Let's start doing your laundry, okay, so you'll have clean clothes when you get there." He picked up the hamper and started tossing clothes into it.

Frodo jerked the hamper from his hands. "I don't want to wash them. I don't want to pack. There's no point, they'll just get dirty again. Why bother?" He didn't resist when Bilbo took the hamper back, and he did start to pack things into the boxes that Bilbo had brought home, but he refused to look at Bilbo.

Packing at the last minute took most of the day, even with short breaks for breakfast and lunch. Finally, there was a surprisingly large stack of boxes, two suitcases, and the hamper, filled with bedding. 

"Surely you didn't have this much stuff when you got here," Bilbo said. Frodo shrugged, looking at a blank space on the wall. 

"When are they getting here," he asked, his voice low. 

Bilbo stuck his hands in his pockets. "Before dinner, I think." He sank down onto the bed and looked up at Frodo, leaning on the wall. "You know, I'll come visit you and you can come here to see Sam and Rosie."

The doorbell rang and they stared at each other. It rang a second time and Bilbo jumped. "Well, my car's out front, so we can't really pretend we've gone out." He caught the edge of a smile on Frodo's downturned face. 

Then everything was a rush as Rory and Gilda and their son Merimac gathered up boxes and filled the house with cheerful chatter and Bilbo watched Frodo withdraw into silence. When the van was packed, Bilbo pulled Frodo into the living room and hugged him tightly. 

"It'll be okay, kiddo. I promise." 

Gone

Bilbo gazed at the clutter of leftover things in Frodo's room, then turned and silently shut the door behind himself, walking to his office and closing that door as well. 

The house echoed with silence.


	49. Forty Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wakes up, as if from a long sleep.

"Don't forget that there's homework due on Mastering Chemistry this weekend, and you should all be thinking about your lab quizzes." Bilbo dusted off his hands. "Have a good weekend."

Groans filled the room, but he ignored them as he closed powerpoint and gathered up his things. He followed the students out of the room, holding the door behind himself for the last two. One of them grinned up at him.

"Do you have plans for the weekend, Dr Baggins?" Her companion started to giggle and turned her face away. "Because I heard that Thorin Durin's out of town, and – " She broke off at something in his face, then rushed on. "I mean, I read online that he's doing some sort of interview thing? Down in LA? So I wondered if you were going with him."

Bilbo shook his head. _How the hell are the kids finding out where Thorin is before I do?_ "I'm sure I'll have plenty to keep busy. And you should be paying more attention to your homework than the latest gossip, Sandra. It'll take you further."

He stepped past the two girls and merged into the flow of people walking through the corridor. After a quick jog down stairs, he slid into his lab and locked the door. Ori looked up from his notebook.

"You look upset." Ori pushed his work aside and leaned on the counter. "What's up?"

Bilbo carefully put his bag down on an empty lab bench, pulled out a stool, and sat. "Life sucks."

Ori grinned. "I'll get you a cup of coffee and we can compare notes." He slid off his stool. On his way to the microwave, he picked up a jar filled with brown crystals labelled _Ferric Ammonium_ , dropped two heaping scoopfuls into each of two slightly chipped mugs, then set the capped jar back on the high shelf he'd taken it from. Once the mugs were filled with water and in the microwave, he turned back to Bilbo.

"Okay," he said, "Tell me." The microwave dinged and he stirred in powdered creamer, setting one mug in front of Bilbo with a thunk. "I'm so sorry about Frodo, by the way."

Bilbo stared at the swirling coffee and sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. "Thanks. It feels really shitty, but I understand why it happened. I mean, I can see why Frodo's aunt and uncle took him. He's their nephew and not mine, no matter what he called me." He drank some of the coffee. "But that's not even all of it. I'm just _tired_ , Ori. There's sort of nowhere to go right now. Thorin's out of town – oh, two of the gossipy girls from Organic said something about Thorin being in LA for the weekend and asked if I'm going down there with him."

Ori raised his eyebrows. "Are you?" 

"Am I what? Going with him? I'd have had to have been asked, right?" 

"Ah." 

They sat silently for several minutes, during which Ori retrieved a half-knit sock from his bag. Behind him, on the long lab bench along the back wall, the drying glassware gleamed in the thin winter sun. Finally, Ori rested the sock in his lap and leaned forward.

"So, are you upset he didn't ask you? Did he say he didn't want you to go? Why _is_ he going, anyway?"

Bilbo stared morosely into the dregs at the bottom of his cup. "I'm not upset." At Ori's disbelieving expression, Bilbo snorted. "Okay, maybe a little, but not really. I mean, what'll I do while he's doing the rounds of whatever it is happens when you're a giant rock star? It's not as if I don't have writing to do, or don't have grading or shouldn't be working on … you know," he waved a hand. "Work."

"But?" Ori glanced at him, then peered at the stitches on his needle, counting them carefully under his breath.

"But I'd have liked to be asked, I guess. Even if I'd just say no." He heard an odd buzzing, then realized his phone was vibrating in his bag.

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_Bilbo – I'm on my way to the studio. I'll be home tomorrow night. Should I bring real bagels? Love you – Thorin  
_

Bilbo sighed. 

_From: Bilbo  
To: Thorin_

_Real bagels sound great. Are you coming over Sunday morning?  
_

Bilbo sank back down into his chair and looked across the table at Ori. "I just don't know what's going on, I think, and that's part of the problem. I thought I had a handle on things – everything was going so well, and then…"

Ori nodded. "Tornados can go right to hell."

Bilbo started laughing. After a moment, he realized he hadn't really laughed hard since New Year's Day. "Oh," he said, "I needed that. Thanks." 

"Any time," Ori said. "I'm happy to insult the weather for you whenever you need."

Bilbo snorted. "Well, why don't you tell me what's going on here and then I think I'm going home. I've a ton of work to do."

On the way home, Bilbo stopped at the grocery store. He'd seen a recipe for chicken cooked in milk and wanted to try it. When he was nearly home, his phone buzzed again. Feeling conscientious, he waited until he'd parked before checking it.

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_Oh. I'd hoped to come straight to your house. I want to see you. I can get a taxi from the airport and bring myself – and my bagels – right to you. Then we'll have all of Sunday for lounging about.  
_

Bilbo smiled. 

_From: Bilbo  
To: Thorin_

_That sounds like a good plan. What time?  
_

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_The plane lands at 6:35 in SFO. I can be at your house by 7:30. See you then.  
_

After dinner, Bilbo filled a large water glass with white wine and went into his office. He sat down and opened the file with one of the new stories he was working on. 

"Okay, let's see if I can still do this." He took a sip and cracked his knuckles. Ten minutes later, he shivered. _It's really quiet. Damn, was it always this quiet, before …_

***

Bilbo spent Saturday straightening the house and cooking. 

He'd stayed up until nearly 2am working on the story – and had drunk the entire bottle of wine – and when he'd finally staggered to bed, he'd fallen over without taking off more than his pants.

When he woke up, he fought his way out of the strangling blankets and stared at his room. Friday's pants were crumpled at the side of the bed, two weeks of laundry were trying to escape the hamper in the corner, he'd dropped reciepts and other pocket trash in at least three different places, and now that he was paying attention, his sheets could use a good laundering. 

After a long shower, he got to work. While the laundry sloshed in the washing machine, he moved through the house, gathering up all the detritus which had strayed from where it should be. He gathered dishes from the bedroom and living room, and, to his confusion, the bathroom and filled the dishwasher. Once everything which needed moving was mostly in place, he went through the house again, dusting and vacuuming.

At four in the afternoon, he brought out the third bag of trash and stood looking out over what he could see of the Bay Area. The sky was a clear, scraped thin blue, with the beginnings of the evening's heavy fog creeping over the coastal hills to San Francisco. It was chilly – warm enough if he was standing directly in the sun, but the cold breeze whipping up the street made him decide that he should go back inside.

He started the chicken just after 6 and set potatoes, well rubbed with oil and fresh pepper and pink salt – and just a touch of cumin – into the oven to bake. Green beans were ready for steaming in the microwave. He turned around in the kitchen, then shrugged. 

_This is ridiculous. It's not as if this is the first time he's coming over._

Feeling silly, he made a cup of coffee and sat down at the table to work through the latest lab reports from his students. Before ten minutes had gone by, he'd forgotten everything except working his way through the stack of papers.

"There," he said, some time later. "Done." He sat up, pressing a hand to the small of his back and jumped in his seat. Thorin was standing in the kitchen door, smiling at him. 

"I don't know why," he said, "but I love the way you look when you're working."

Bilbo looked down at the stack of reports and quizzes and shook his head. "You're very strange," he said.

Thorin stepped forward, holding his arms open. "Maybe."

Bilbo leaned against him, feeling the way his own body relaxed in the warmth of Thorin's hug. He wound his own arms around Thorin's chest and waist and rested his forehead on Thorin's shoulder. Thorin just stood still, one hand slowly stroking up and down Bilbo's back.

After a while, Thorin whispered, "What's cooking? It smells amazing." 

Bilbo laughed out loud, leaning back a bit. "Chicken cooked in milk, if you can believe it." At Thorin's slightly horrified expression, Bilbo chuckled again. "Yeah, I know, but the reviews say it's amazing, and it's Jamie Oliver, so it's trustworthy. Come on, it's nearly ready."

"Great," Thorin said. "I'm starving. I know this is ridiculous, because I complained about them like everyone else, but now I miss airplane food."

Bilbo took the pot from the oven and set it on the stove top, then started the beans steaming. "Why would they give you food on a one hour flight?"

Thorin turned from his perusal of the wine bottles Bilbo had put in the fridge. "Six hours – why would it be a one hour flight?"

Bilbo looked over his shoulder. "It doesn't take six hours to fly here from Los Angeles."

"Ah." Thorin pulled a bottle from the fridge, then ambled over to the table to open it. "I was only in LA for Thursday. I flew from there to New York – didn't I tell you?" Bilbo shook his head and Thorin looked confused. "Huh. I could have sworn …" He pulled the cork out with a low pop. "Anyway, yeah, that's why I brought bagels. And, I think there's something for us in the bag the promotion people put together." He gestured at the door. 

Bilbo set the food out and sat down while Thorin finished pouring the wine. "So, what were you doing in New York?"

Thorin blinked at him, fork halfway to his mouth. "I … surely we talked about this?" Bilbo just stared at him. Thorin put the food in his mouth, then his eyes fell closed. "Oh god, Bilbo, your cooking is amazing."

"Flattery will get you anywhere," Bilbo said, half-smiling, "except out of telling me why you were in New York." The chicken was perfect, and the sauce made the green beans taste amazing.

"I was on Jimmy Fallon," Thorin said, "and I'd been in LA to film Thursday's show for Jimmy Kimmel." Thorin thought for a moment, chewing slowly. "Yeah, I've got that right. I wish they had different names. Usually I get them backwards."

"Huh." Bilbo used his potato to soak up some of the chicken's sauce on his plate. "They're on TV?"

Thorin laughed and Bilbo crossed his arms.

"No, no, don't be mad, just I'm not used to people who're actually uninterested in this." Thorin rubbed his nose and yawned a bit. "Sorry, flights in this direction always take it out of me. Yeah, they're talk show hosts. The Tonight Show's the one from yesterday – I played something and we talked about touring."

He finished his food and waited for Bilbo to finish. "I'm ready for bed, if you're willing." He wiggled his eyebrows. Bilbo snorted. He quickly put the leftover food into the fridge and followed Thorin down the hall.

There was a small duffle bag in front of the bedroom closet and Bilbo could hear Thorin moving in the bathroom. Bilbo took off his clothes, carefully putting them in the now-empty hamper and went to brush his teeth. 

That night, wrapped in Thorin's warm heat, Bilbo slept better than he had all week.

The next morning, over bagels with butter and some of Bella's apricot preserves, Thorin looked up at Bilbo and said, "Wait, but if you didn't know where I was, why did you think I was in LA?"

"I heard, from a student, that you were in LA so I assumed that you were there the whole time." Bilbo yawned.

Thorin's brows drew together. "Why would a student be telling you where I'm going?"

Bilbo shrugged. "She said she'd seen it online and since I don't keep track of the online stuff about you very well, and she's always, um, up to date, I figured she knew what she was talking about."

Thorin licked the last of his jam from his fingers. "Reasonable. Thanks for staying off the gossip sites, by the way. They're never anything but trouble."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, heh. The best way to hide anything in a lab is to mis-label it. Ferric Ammonium Powder ([Ferric Ammonium Citrate](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ammonium_ferric_citrate) is not something random undergrads would casually use, so hiding one's good quality British instant coffee is easy. Don't tell anyone that they're drinking in the lab, okay? *grin*
> 
> And I really want to try the [Chicken in Milk](http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/chicken-recipes/chicken-in-milk/#AwtBTkkuyIgwggS0.97) recipe.


	50. Fifty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori and Bofur want to talk to Bilbo about something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I've made the Chicken in Milk and it is quite tasty! The chicken ends up very tender.
> 
> Second, adding sodium metal to water can be explosive. At it's calmest, it makes a lot of white smoke and an interesting fizzy sound. [Sodium in water](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ODf_sPexS2Q)
> 
> Third and last - Wow, it's been 50 weeks since this story started! Nearly a year!

Bilbo went to school on Monday feeling better than he had all quarter. He'd even managed to put together lunch from the leftovers of Saturday night's chicken, so he wouldn't have to try to find something passable from the poor options on campus. 

His morning Inorganic Chemistry lab was more entertaining than usual, as they'd been working with raw sodium. In the final half hour, the students all gathered around as he carefully wetted the bottom of the deepest sink they had and dropped small fragments of the sodium into the moisture. The resulting sparks and explosions drew excited cheers from his students as well as the ones who were waiting in the hall for their class. 

He saw Dean Sijed in the hall grinning over the crowd, and waved. The Dean waved back then disappeared down the hall. Bilbo watched as his students cleaned up, enjoying the bright chatter as they discussed the sodium demo as well as their plans for the week. 

Even the endless weekly department meeting in which the environmental chemist – a frustrated young man who'd made it clear that he'd rather be anywhere but teaching – complained about the decreasing depth of primary science education. Bilbo spent the time making notes about the story he wanted to tell in the last two Horse Lords books. 

After that, he rushed to teach Organic Chemistry, reminding that group about the upcoming midterms, then escaped to his lab, hoping to have a few quiet minutes to start grading the Inorganic lab reports.

He'd managed half an hour of focus when the door opened. He raised a hand without looking, made the last notation on a report, then looked up. Ori stood, back to the closed door, staring at him.

"Is everything okay?" Bilbo asked, when Ori didn't say anything.

Ori jumped a little, then came into the room, carefully navigating around the lab benches. "Um," he said. He slid down into a chair near Bilbo's seat. "Yeah, uh, so, sure. I mean," he said, eyes everywhere but on Bilbo. He clutched his bag, on his lap. "So, I spent the weekend with Bofur?"

Bilbo sat back. _What's this now? Surely they're not fighting?_

"Oookay," he said. "That's good, right? I mean, I like Bofur. He's a good guy?"

Ori nodded, suddenly brightening. "Yeah, wow, so you know I knit, right? Of course you know. Anyway, Bofur doesn't just use hand tools, he's got this shed _full_ of woodworking stuff. He made me some beautiful wooden yarn bowls. I should show you." He pulled out his phone and scrolled through some pictures – Bilbo thought he caught a glimpse of Bifur and Dori sitting in front of something bright and colorful – and then showed Bilbo three wooden bowls, each different. 

Two were wide, with walls which sloped gently out before curving in quickly. One was stained a deep red; Bofur had carved a slender dragon around the outside and made the last curve of its tail the loop through which Ori could hook his yarn. The second was blue outside, with colorful koi fish carved in faint relief around the edge; one of the fins was the yarn loop.

The third was taller, with intricate geometric shapes carved through the walls so it looked like lace captured in pale creamy wood. 

"Oh," breathed Bilbo, "these are beautiful."

Ori smiled down at his phone. "They are, aren't they?" He flicked his thumb across the screen, showing a beaming Bofur, eyes twinkling up at the camera from under his hat.

Bilbo leaned back. "I'm glad you had a good weekend. Mine was better than I've had in a while."

"Oh! Did you see Thorin?" Ori slipped his phone back into his bag, looking uncomfortable again.

Bilbo stood up and stacked the lab reports, tucking them into their folder. "I did. He came – he was in New York, not LA. I don't know …" He stretched, then reached for the Ferric Ammonium jar, shaking it at Ori. "Coffee?"

Ori nodded, standing up himself and moving to the bench with their experimental set up. He peered at one of the round bottom flasks and twisted it slightly to the right. "How did he seem?" 

Bilbo turned around. "He was fine. He got to my house in the evening and we had dinner, then went to bed. He said that flying west always tires him out. Sunday was nice, though. We drove up to Pt Reyes and spent most of the day on the beach and in Pt Reyes Station."

"Did he seem distracted?"

Bilbo crossed his arms. "Okay, Ori, what's this about?"

Ori looked down at his hands, curling his fingers up into his fingerless mitts. "Can I come over to talk to you? Tonight? With Bofur? Is Thorin going to be there?"

"He won't be – he's got work. So, sure, come on over. It's Monday – when's your last class?" Bilbo felt his shoulders tighten. "I'll make pasta."

Ori nodded. "I can get there at, um." He glanced at his watch. "I guess I can be there around 7:30? I'll have Bofur drive me, so we'll get there at the same time."

***

Bilbo got home at about 6 and was, at first, startled that the lights weren't on. Then he blinked and remembered that Frodo wasn't there, so of course the house was dark. He sighed and went inside.

After dropping his bag in his office, he double checked to make sure the living room was clean and started pasta sauce. While the ground pork simmered in the tomato sauce, he tried to ignore his increasingly upset stomach by reading one of the chemistry papers he'd been putting off. 

By the time he'd worked out the mechanics of what the researcher had been trying to explain, he'd added the carrot and peas, and was stirring in the last of the balsamic vinegar reduction when his doorbell rang. He jumped, dropping the spoon on the stove, leaving a red smear. 

When Bilbo got to the door, Bofur was laughing at something Ori had said. Ori's face was tipped up and Bilbo felt a sudden rush of pleasure at the joy shining in Ori's eyes. _It's good to see him so happy._

"Come in," he said, opening the door wide. 

Bofur strode in, beaming as he swept his hat off. "Glad to be here," he said. "The drive wasn' so bad this time." There was a bit of a bustle as Bilbo hung everyone's jackets in his closet, but then he led them to the kitchen. 

"I'll start the pasta boiling, now that you're here," he said. "It should be ready soon – the sauce is just keeping warm now. Drinks?" He and Bofur had bottles of a beer brewed in Mendocino and Ori had a glass of bubbly water. "So," Bilbo said, "what did you want to talk to me about?"

Ori and Bofur glanced at each other and Bilbo saw Ori shake his head slightly.

"Can we talk about it after dinner?" Ori looked uncomfortable but determined, and Bofur ran a hand up his back. 

Bilbo shrugged. "Sure, but you're making me really nervous."

Dinner was a little strained, but Bofur managed to keep up a steady stream of chatter interesting enough to keep everyone involved in the conversation. When they'd finished and the bowls were in the dishwasher, Bilbo made a pot of coffee and brought it, with cookies, to the living room. 

"Now," he said, setting the tray down and collapsing into his favorite chair. "What's going on?"

Bofur leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankle. "What do you know about Thorin's job?"

Bilbo blinked. _That wasn't what I expected._ "I, erm. He's a rock star? There's singing and traveling, and I think he does the song writing as well, right? He talks about time in the studio, which is where he said he is tonight, actually." He paused, thinking. "I think he's said there's a studio in the basement at his house, but I haven't seen it."

Bofur nodded. "That's all true enough. Has he talked about what it's like, being a performer?" Next to him on the couch, Ori had curled up, hands cradling his cup. 

"Not much, no," Bilbo said, confused and beginning to feel a bit angry. "Why are you asking me these questions? Ori seemed …" He stopped. 

Bofur leaned forward, putting one hand on Ori's knee as he did. "The thing is, Bilbo, Ori and me, we were online looking at stuff about bands – we were trying to plan our summer, actually – and we saw some stuff about Thorin."

"What. Stuff." Bilbo's jaw was so tight he was surprised he could speak at all.

"He's been away a lot, right? When did it start? Because there are rumors that he's seeing someone else, or at least that he's thinking of moving on." Ori set his cup down on the coffee table. "He's been photographed at a few different big events – there were pictures of him at a movie premiere at the beginning of January, and he wasn't alone. I was surprised that he was there when you were so upset and could have used his help."

Bilbo felt his skin prickle. It had seemed to him that Thorin had been less available, in the days and weeks after New Year but Bilbo hadn't been sure that he hadn't been imagining things. Thorin had been so involved, so caring and attentive at first. 

Bilbo pressed his lips together, suddenly seeing the past month or so in a new light. Thorin had stayed the night of New Year Day, the night they'd heard about Prim and Drogo, but he'd gone back to his own house the next day. Then they'd kept in touch on the phone and by email, and he'd visited again once or twice, but by the time of the funeral, Bilbo hadn't seen Thorin in person in nearly two weeks. At the time, Bilbo hadn't given it much thought – he'd barely noticed, in fact – but now, things looked different.

Bilbo caught an expression of sympathy on Bofur's face and recoiled. "So you're saying that you think he's what? Cheating on me?" Bofur's lips twisted. "Because he was just here this past weekend and things were fine."

Ori sat up. "No, we're not saying that. I just know that you don't pay attention to the news – okay, yes, you watch the political news and the world events, but Bilbo, you know you don't watch the media stuff. And Thorin's definitely doing something to keep him away from home."

Bilbo opened his mouth, but Bofur raised a hand to stop him. "It's not something to do with the band," he said firmly, "because I asked Bifur if they had plans to do more touring and he said no, they were home for a while. They're not sure when they'll even be working on recording a new album."

Feeling as if he were watching the conversation from just outside his head, Bilbo asked, "Who writes the music? I assumed Thorin did."

Bofur nodded. "He writes a lot of it, but Fili's been doing more in the past few years. I think Kili even wrote something for the last album. I know he's the one who insists they play – " 

"Hall of the Mountain King," Bilbo said, feeling a sudden rush of memory. "I remember him saying something about that when I met them at the summer festival."

Ori shrugged. "It could be that Thorin's thinking of doing a solo album, or something else, but I just didn't want you to not know. I'm sure it's something obvious and easy."

Bilbo nodded. "Of course."

Bofur and Ori left soon after that and Bilbo sat in his living room with the lights out and Deathless cradled gently in his hand. When he got cold, he got ready for bed; when he was tucked under the covers, he checked his phone. 

Thorin hadn't emailed or texted. Bilbo pressed his eyes tightly closed. _This is ridiculous. He doesn't have to tell you where he is all the time. We're not teenagers._

_From: Bilbo  
To: Thorin_

_Hey, how was your day?  
_

***

The next morning, Bilbo checked his email.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From:BellaBaggins_

_Dearest,_

_Well, Frodo's not settling in well. Have you heard from him at all? I'm worried about him. He doesn't seem to be talking to anyone._

_I know it's not really our business, but he's so alone now, and nothing that Rory and Gilda can say about how they're 'family' makes them people he knows and trusts. I'm thinking of inviting them – him, really – to dinner next week. I'd love it if you could come as well. I think Frodo would like to see you._

_I know your father and I would._

_How are you, anyway? We haven't heard from you in too long._

_We love you, never forget that._

_Mom  
_


	51. Fifty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo goes home for a family visit.

"Hey, mom." Bilbo tucked his phone tighter between his chin and shoulder and stirred the soup. French Onion soup always took forever, but the recipe made enough to fill the freezer; it was always one of Bilbo's favorites in winter.

"Darling!" Bella's voice was bright. "It's so good to hear you. How are you? We've had rain – it's made the back garden a right mess, but the plants do love it."

Bilbo smiled, feeling a rush of warmth. "I was thinking – there's a three day weekend coming up and I was thinking of coming for a visit. We could get Frodo and spend some time – "

"That's a lovely idea. When were you thinking?" There were three or four sharp thumps from Bella's side of the conversation and Bilbo tried to think of what she'd be doing which made that kind of noise.

"It's next weekend – I've the Monday off, and I'd bet Frodo does as well. Can you arrange things on that end? I was thinking about trying to bring Sam up with me. I see him, some mornings, trudging down the hill toward the bus and I think he'd like to see Frodo as much as I do."

"I'll set it up," she said. "What about the young lady, Rosie?"

Bilbo sighed. "I'll ask Sam what he thinks." He checked the pork roast in the oven and sat down, listening to his mother tell his father what they were talking about. His father's voice was a muddled hum behind the rustling sounds Bella's hands made as she shifted her grip on the phone. He heard her say something as she came back to the conversation.

"Bungo asked and I've been meaning to – what about Thorin, will he be coming as well?"

Bilbo sighed. "I'll ask him, but I'm not sure. He's been busy recently."

"Well, he's welcome, if you want to bring him. So, you'll come up Friday night?"

Bilbo dropped the phone on the table when they were done making plans. "Time for dinner," he said out loud, ignoring the fact that he was talking to himself only. "It smells great."

After dinner, he made lunch for the next day from the leftovers – pork roast slices lay in a nest of sauteed cabbage, onion and apples, all on a bed of garlicky mashed potatoes. He closed the container lid and tucked it in the fridge, next to the rest of the leftovers. Then he set the dishes to soak and rubbed his face. 

"Quit putting this off, it's ridiculous." Bilbo grabbed a sweater and, sliding the kitchen door closed behind himself, clambered over the back wall, skidding down into the Gamgee's back yard.

Bell and Hamfast were delighted for Sam to go with him to visit Frodo; Bell promised to make a batch of her special mint chocolate bar cookies to bring on the visit. She bustled away to her pantry – a large room in their basement which Bilbo envied with all his heart – muttering under her breath about what else she might make to send to "poor little Frodo".

Hamfast met Bilbo's gaze squarely. "Are you bringing him home, then?"

"I wish," Bilbo said, "but I can't. I'm not actually his uncle – "

"Oh, for crying out loud," Hamfast snapped, "you can't possibly believe he's better off there, with old Rory, in that backwards old place."

Bilbo stared at Hamfast, who glared back. There was a choked sound from the door and they both swung around to see Sam, carrying an overflowing basket. 

"Oh, Bilbo," Sam said, looking back and forth between his father and Bilbo. "Are we going to get Frodo?"

Bilbo sighed, deeply. _Why do people keep ignoring the fact that I can't?_ "Not … yet, but I thought we could go up to visit over the Martin Luther King weekend. You have Monday off, right?"

The look of sudden joy on Sam's face made Bilbo look away. 

"Can we bring Rosie? I know she'd love to see him." Sam had clutched the laundry basket to his chest so hard half of it was scattered on the floor.

*** 

Driving up to Hobbiton, Bilbo listened to Sam and Rosie in the back seat of the car, discussing something they were both watching on Sam's phone. They seemed to be watching a show about spies just after World War II; Bilbo found himself chuckling to himself as they excitedly bounced in their seats.

As they pulled up at the head of the drive, Bella opened the bright green door, spilling warm yellow light onto the flagstone walk. Sam and Rosie tumbled from the car and ran up to her, both hugging her so tightly she was lifted from the ground. Bilbo watched from the car; he felt a sudden rush of mixed pleasure and melancholy so strong his eyes watered. 

Before they'd quite finished unpacking the car, lights from another car swung up the drive. Rory parked behind Bilbo and got out, all smiles. Frodo came out more slowly, dragging his backpack off the seat and slouching next to their car. After a few confused moments, Bella guided Rory back to his car and distracted while Sam and Rosie gathered Frodo up, pulling him into the house. 

Bella stood next to Bilbo as Rory's red tail lights turned the corner onto Bag End. "That's well rid of him," she said. When Bilbo glanced at her, surprised, she shrugged. "I've called and emailed several times every week and this is the first time he's let the boy come to visit. I know we're not direct family, but there's no reason to keep him mewed up like a princess in a fairy tale."

"Hey," Bungo called, from the door. "Are you coming in for dinner, or should I let the Vermicious Knids eat it all?"

Over dinner, a large lasagne with salad followed by a deep apple pie, Bilbo watched as Rosie and Sam tried to get Frodo to say more than a few words. He was eating again, which was a relief, but Bilbo didn't think he'd ever seen Frodo this silent. 

After dinner, and unpacking in their bedrooms upstairs, Bilbo came back down to sit with his parents in the living room. Bella swept in after Bilbo, carrying a tray with tea things.

"Now," she said briskly, "tell us all about how your life has been." 

Bungo looked at him over the top of his reading glasses. "I assume you've been seeing a lot of your young man."

Bilbo looked into his teacup, watching the milk swirl in the darker tea. "Not so much, actually. I'm not sure what's going on – Ori said something about there being rumors online, I'm not sure what, but …" He sipped his tea. "I'm worried about Frodo, though." _I don't want to talk about myself right now. Yikes._

Bella's face, which had been gathering stormclouds when she'd come into the room, now flashed with anger. "Did you see that poor boy? He's lost another ten pounds at least, and he didn't say anything. What were they thinking to bring him up here?" She snatched up her knitting, then dropped it in her lap as she continued. 

"It isn't as if he grew up here either; there's no way that this is 'coming home'. They moved to the city when he was 10, so he's barely spent any real time here in Hobbiton."

"Mom, if Drogo and Prim didn't say anything in the will about where they wanted him to go, then it's up to him to say that he wants something different."

"And if he isn't willing to say anything at all, even what he'd like to drink with dinner, then it's unlikely he'll get to go back to live with you." Bungo's voice was thoughtful. "Have you gone to look at the will yourself?"

Bilbo blinked at him. "Gone where? How?"

Bella and Bungo glanced at each other, then Bungo leaned forward. "You mean you haven't … Bilbo, since you seemed so sure they hadn't said anything, we assumed you'd see the will. You're saying you've just taken Asphodel's wretched husband's word for it?"

Bilbo's heart started to beat heavily. "Where could I see the will? They don't have public readings, no matter what all those movies from the 50's showed."

Bella stared at him. "They're public, at the probate office?"

Bilbo stared back at her, completely startled. "Public? I thought …" He felt something shift in his hands and realized he'd nearly dropped his tea cup. Moving slowly and deliberately, he set the cup down on the little table near his chair. Then he turned back to his parents.

"If it's public, why haven't you looked at it?"

They glanced at each other again, then Bungo shrugged. "You seemed so sure you knew what it said, it seemed a waste of time. But if you haven't seen it, then it's something we should do."

Bilbo thought for a second, then said, "Where's the office?"

The next morning, he trundled downstairs and found his mother in the kitchen, singing to herself as she made breakfast. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and handed him a cup of coffee.

"What are you and the boys planning on doing today?"

He leaned against the counter, watching her turn bacon in the pan. "I'm not sure. Honestly, I just thought it would be nice to see Frodo. And you, of course." 

She grinned at him. "Of course." They were silent for a few minutes.

"How's dad been? He seems healthier." Bilbo finished his cup of coffee and poured himself another one.

Bella nodded. "He has been better. Dr Grakung is very good and your father's made a real effort to be more careful." She looked out the window. Bilbo followed her glance and saw his father outside, crouching over something in the garden. Bella caught his eye and they both laughed. "At least he's wearing regular pants and a good coat," she said. 

As if he could hear them, Bungo looked up and waved. 

Breakfast was livelier than dinner; Frodo seemed to have relaxed a bit. He sat between Sam and Rosie, who were seated so close to him they might as well have all three been in one chair. After breakfast, the three of them galloped back up to the room they were sharing and Bilbo smiled to hear the sounds of one of the bands Frodo used to listen to with Merry and Pippin when they were over for games.

Bilbo parked himself in the small office Bella had made from a large downstairs closet when they'd renovated the house years before. She'd expected Bungo to use the room, but he preferred working in a small shed in the back, so for years the room had collected random boxes and household detritus. When Bilbo had started writing the Horse Lords series, he'd come up to his parent's house to work on it and taken the office over.

With a smile for the rush of nostalgia that he felt, he opened his laptop.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: Nori@ConsortBooks_

_Bilbo,_

_So, weird thing. I was in a meeting with some other agents and editors, and one of them said that since you'd be leaving my agency, I'd have time to do some of their work._

_Naturally, I won't be doing any of their work for them. They're always trying to fob off their clients onto other people. I'm surprised their boss hasn't fired them yet._

_More to the point, though – what the hell? You just sent me a preliminary outline for the last two Rohan books, so why would they think you're leaving? I asked, but they said that they'd overheard something at a meeting – one I wasn't invited to, clearly – but they wouldn't say who they'd overheard._

_I figure they mis-heard, but I wanted to let you know, because it's damned weird._

_In more important news, I love the outline and have you thought about when you'd be able to go on a signing tour._

_Lastly, have you managed to see your nephew at all?_

_Nori  
_

Bilbo leaned back. The email wasn't any less confusing the second time he read it. _Why would I leave Consort Books? They're the best agency around._ He sent a return email reassuring Nori he wasn't planning on changing agencies and telling him all about his conversation about the will. 

Nori responded almost immediately. 

_To: ProfBBaggins_  
_From: Nori@ConsortBooks_  


_Oh, yeah they're entirely public record. In fact, funny thing, but my family's very distantly related to Thorin's. I think his six or seven times great grandfather got frisky with my equally distant grandmother and, well, here we are. He left her a few nice things in his will, which is how we confirmed the relationship._

_I'm sorry I didn't tell you – I thought you knew._

_Nori  
_

Bilbo shook his head at the smallness of the world, then settled down to learn everything he could about probate and wills – and to get acquainted with the State Probate Office website.

After a hurried lunch, he went back to the office and tried to work on the novels but couldn't focus. With a heavy sigh, he pulled out the work he and Ori had done in the past few weeks and started entering data into a spreadsheet. They needed to be able to do some manipulations and he'd been too distracted recently to get the data entry done. 

Hours later, he was pulled out of trying to make a chart show what he needed it to show by a knock on the half-open door. He lifted his head without taking his eyes off the screen.

"Yes? Is it dinner time? I'll be there in a second."

"Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo's voice was small.

Bilbo immediately spun around. Frodo stood in the doorway, his hair a riot of messy curls. "Yes, Frodo," Bilbo said, suddenly breathless. Frodo was silent, shifting from foot to foot. Bilbo held out his arms and said, "Come here." and Frodo practically leapt across the room, knocking Bilbo's chair back against the desk.

They stayed like that, with Frodo clinging to Bilbo and Bilbo's arms wrapped tightly around Frodo's shoulders, for many minutes. Then Frodo pulled back a little and said, "I was afraid you'd forgotten about me."

Bilbo felt his chest cramp. "Oh kiddo, never. I didn't want to get in the way of you settling in. I'm so sorry." He ran a hand over Frodo's head, getting his fingers tangled in the curls. "How has it been?"

Frodo stood up. "I guess it's okay. They're nice enough. It's just for a couple of years, right? Then I can come back?"

Bilbo stared up at him. _Oh you poor brave kid._ "I think, if you tell the judge that you'd prefer to live with me, and go to your old school, you'd probably be allowed."

Frodo looked confused. "Which judge?"

"You know," Bilbo said, feeling better than he had in weeks. "I don't know, but I'm sure we can find out."


	52. Fifty Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gathering information is always useful, isn't it? Even if the information isn't quite what you'd like to see?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, guys, this is Chapter 52. I've been doing this for a _whole year_. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty excited by that. (And by the fact that I haven't missed a week!)
> 
> So, anyway, I hope you like this chapter. I've been swamped - I had five midterms in a week, this past week, AND a head cold - but there are two stories I've drafted for the B Side that I'm hoping to get up this week as well. Neither of them are set at the current time in the story, but I hope they'll help fill in bits anyway. 
> 
> One is set around Chapter 31 - 36 from Thorin's POV and the other is Fili's perspective on some of the story.
> 
> Do let me know if there's anything in particular you'd like to see another POV of - I can't promise, as sometimes it's too spoilery - but I'd love to know what you're interested in seeing.

After dinner, the teenagers cleared the big kitchen table. When that was done, the whole group settled back around the table, with leftover pie and other desserts in the center and Bella's largest tea pot full of fresh tea.

"Now," Bella said, pulling the cap off her pen and straightening her note pad. "Where should we start?" She grinned at the immediate jumble of suggestions thrown at her and started writing. 

By the end of the evening, they had several lists; some were for specific people – Frodo's was very short and consisted largely of self-care tips – but most were things which the adults would have to do.

Sam volunteered to do a lot of the online research. He was good at it, he'd insisted, and it would let him do _something_ , a matter which seemed most important to him. Bella said she'd work with him on figuring out what to do with what, if anything, he found out. 

Bilbo was going to drive up to Sacramento to look at the will, but that had to be scheduled for the following Friday. This gave Sam and Bella time to determine exactly where Bilbo needed to go and what he was to ask for when he got there as well as make sure he didn't miss any important questions.

When the chaos died down, Bilbo looked at the pile of crumpled paper surrounding his mother and said, "I guess I need a lawyer as well, huh?"

Bungo, who'd been mostly quiet during the whole thing, looked at him sharply and smiled. "Yes, I was wondering when that would come up. I think a lawyer is exactly what you need. Fight fire with fire, and all that." 

Bilbo leaned back and rubbed his eyes. They wouldn't stop stinging. "I have no idea how to even find a good one." He groaned. "We can figure that out later, right? It's only Saturday night. We can't fix the whole world tonight. There's still tomorrow and Monday."

Bella looked around the table, smiling gently. "I think it's time we were all in bed. I'll clear up and by the time I'm done, you'll have finished making a mess in the bathroom, right, kids?"

At Rosie's blush, Bilbo figured that they hadn't cleaned the bathroom after they were done the night before. He shook his head. _Teenagers._

Bella gathered the dishes, sweeping off to the kitchen with the tray while Frodo, Sam, and Rosie trundled upstairs, still arguing slightly over whether or not Sam or Rosie was going to do the internet search about marriage law. 

Bungo leaned forward slightly and said, "Now, why don't you tell me what's going on with Thorin."

Bilbo's head snapped up; he could feel his eyes widen. "I … what?"

A deep sigh behind him made his shoulders sag. "Oh, baby," Bella said. She came back into the room and sat down on the arm of Bungo's chair. "You haven't talked about him much recently and he didn't come? Surely you knew we'd notice." She watched his face. "Have you had a fight?"

Bilbo sighed. "Nothing so simple, actually. It's weird. Things were fine – exceptionally good, until Drogo and Pr – until just after we found out. He was there when we found out and he was amazing. He just took care of everything. Frodo and I weren't … I mean, I could barely remember which way was up, at first and poor Frodo was just gone." 

Bungo huffed a little as Bella slid down into his lap, her face full of sympathy. "I remember you telling us about it. Did something change? I mean – heh." She laughed, shaking her head. "Obviously something did, but did he say anything?"

"Not that I can think of." Bilbo shrugged. "I mean, it wasn't like one day he just stopped coming over. He was at the big dinner I had just before Frodo came up here. I just don't know."

"Have you asked him?" Bungo had wrapped an arm around Bella.

Bilbo shrugged again. "No. I was… I wasn't really thinking about it, you know?" They sat silently for a few moments, then he continued. "I guess he's been distant since New Year. He stayed with us – me – the night we found out, but he left the next day and then I didn't see him for a while." He paused, thinking. "I heard from him – we kept in touch on the phone and online – but he didn't come over as much. He's only been to the house maybe two or three times since then."

Bella looked thoughtful. "I wonder …" She got up and pulled out a brightly colored small laptop from the large handwoven bag she used as a travelling art studio. When she saw Bilbo's raised eyebrow, she laughed. "Hey, I'm a chromaphile. I wanted a little laptop to use while I was out in the field, to take notes and stuff, so I started looking. This one was perfect, _and_ it came in colors."

Bilbo just shook his head, smiling. _Trust mom to find a computer that's bright orange._

She sat down at the table and started typing. Without looking up, she said, "What was the name of that site you talked about? The one with the guy who hates Thorin?"

"Gundabad?"

"Right." She typed a few more things, then leaned back. "Okay, so let's see what's being said." 

Bilbo and Bungo moved to stand behind her. She was scrolling smoothly down the page, pausing at each article to scan its headline. "No," she muttered, "not that one either, who the hell is that guy? Who cares if she's selling her clothes? And…" She started laughing. "Well, that's a hell of an insult. 'She'd attend the opening of a mouth.'. Who are they talking about?" Bella looked up at Bilbo, who peered at the image of a slender woman with dark hair. 

"I've no idea," he said. "But that is quite creative. Azog's usually crasser than that. He must like her a lot."

Bella stopped at the next one. 

_OAKENDICK HAS BEEN SEEN OUT AND ABOUT WITH YET ANOTHER HOT YOUNG THING._

The image next to the headline was Thorin, in what Bilbo thought of as his 'Rock Star Clothes' with an extremely thin young man with slicked back white blond hair and clothes which might as well have been painted on. Thorin stood half in front of the stranger, his arms crossed tightly. The young man had one arm draped across Thorin's waist; his thumb was hooked into one of Thorin's belt loops, and his head rested against Thorin's shoulder. 

His face was ecstatic, but Thorin's was a study in tight fury. 

Without saying anything, Bella clicked on the headline.

_Well, well, well. This is the third new piece Oakenshield's been seen with in as many weeks. They're practically indistinguishable from each other – he must be shopping in bulk. If only we could all afford such extravagances._

_As we suspected – and previously predicted – it didn't take him long to tire of his foray into the unknown land of people his own age. I guess even hot detention games aren't enough to keep Oakenshield interested. Too bad – the Professor's plain looks were actually beginning to grow on me. They made such an odd couple._

_However, as Oakenshield's back to his usual sexual proclivities, at least we can all spend some time in our bunks as we imagine these two together. It's a wonder Oakenshield doesn't break them in half._

_Or maybe that's why he keeps replacing them!_

"Oookay," Bella said, her voice calm. "That's what he's got to say. I can see why Thorin doesn't like him." She opened Google and typed in the name of the event at which the picture of Thorin had been taken, opening the images page. As Bilbo watched, impressed, she scrolled quickly down the page, opening several images in separate tabs. After a moment, she leaned back. "There, those are the ones where you can see Thorin." 

She turned to the first image she'd opened. _THORIN OAKENSHIELD TO SING ON JIMMY KIMMEL LIVE!!!_ screamed across the bottom of the picture. This image was clearly taken at the same event – his clothes were the same – but Thorin looked more relaxed. He was smiling at something off camera and the blond man was standing with his back to the camera, talking to someone else entirely. 

Bella clicked between the rest of the images she'd pulled out. The blond man was in all of them, but none of them showed the same level of implied intimacy as the one Azog's site had chosen. 

"So." Bungo said. "There's certainly something you two might need to talk about."

Bilbo had sunk down into one of the chairs as his mother worked her way through the pictures. His head ached and his eyes were throbbing. "I'm going to bed. This … thanks, mom, actually, this was helpful. I asked Sam, a while ago, to tell me where I could find this stuff online for myself and, now that I see some of these sites, I remember Nori giving me a list even before that. Just … right now all I want to do is go to sleep. I don’t know what I'm going to do, but I can't think about it right now."

Bella wrapped her arms around him and held him gently; he felt his father's arms slide around the two of them. He buried his nose into his mother's shoulder and breathed in the scent of home and unconditional love. _Whatever happens, I'll be okay. I'll get Frodo back and I'll be just fine no matter what._

Upstairs, he crawled into bed, sure that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep easily, but almost as soon as he pulled the thick comforter over his shoulders, he was out. 

The six of them spent Sunday walking through the Bindbole Wood, exploring all the places Bilbo had when he was a child following his parents as they rambled around – his father looking for interesting mushrooms and his mother stopping to paint and sketch. Watching Frodo chase after Sam and Rosie made Bilbo feel a bubble of joy that nothing could squelch. 

When he glanced away from Frodo's laughing face, Bilbo saw his mother watching him. She smiled and the compassion and love he saw in her face made his chest tighten.

"Thanks mom," he said, hugging her. 

She laughed, hugging him back, then leaned back to look at his face again. "Whatever for?"

"Oh," he shrugged, trying to dismiss his sudden sentimentality. "Just for everything, I guess."

Bungo came up to them, grinning. "How's this? You're thanking your mother, but never a thought for me?"

Bilbo laughed. "Oh, you know mom always wins."

Bungo looked delighted. "That she does," he said, and tucked her under his arm as they turned to follow the teenagers.

Monday they stayed closer to home. Bilbo spent the time finishing the data entry and manipulation he'd started on Saturday afternoon and, when he finally came out, bleary eyed and distracted, he found that the rest had eaten lunch without him.

After he ate, he, Sam, and Rosie packed. Frodo just tossed the few things he'd brought into his backpack and grinned at them.

"I can't wait to go home," he said. 

Bilbo sat on the bed next to him. "You know it won't be immediate, right, and that you can't talk about it at Rory's?"

Frodo nodded. "Yeah, I know. I get it, Uncle, I do. And, you know," he shrugged, "I'm not sure that Rory and Gilda are so bad. I mean, I don’t want to stay with them, but they're trying to be nice. I don't think they're trying to be mean – they really seem to think that I'd be happier here. Their kids don't visit much, maybe they're lonely."

Bilbo smiled down at his hands, laced together between his knees. "Well, as long as you don't spill the beans, maybe after we get you home, you could visit with them sometimes?" At Sam's stiff silence, Bilbo shook his head. "Not to stay, but to visit. They are your family, and it's good to get to know your family."

Frodo shrugged. "Sure, maybe. But not to stay. I'll stay with your parents and they can come and visit me here."

_I'm not sure that'll work, kiddo._

Rory brought Gilda wth him to pick Frodo up. They'd called to say they would come by before dinner; they arrived only about half an hour after they'd called. Bilbo watched as they greeted a – to them – unusually happy Frodo and thought that Frodo might be right. They both seemed honestly pleased to see Frodo and he saw Gilda look at Frodo, laughing as he hugged Sam goodbye, with tears standing in her eyes.

"Thank you so much," she said, blinking quickly. "For bringing Frodo's little friends to see him. He's been so unhappy, which makes sense, such a big loss, we all miss them dreadfully. I didn't think he'd ever smile again and here he is, laughing." She smiled up at Bilbo. "I'm sure things will work themselves out for the poor lad, now."

Bilbo nodded. "I rather think so, yes."


	53. Fifty Three - or What the Will Says

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And finally, what the will says.

The next Friday, Bilbo nearly didn't make it to the probate office in Sacramento in time. He hadn't been able to leave school early, as he'd hoped, as there'd been an unexpected departmental meeting he couldn't skip. He'd driven as fast as he could, but regular Friday afternoon traffic combined with two accidents to make the drive take nearly three hours. By the time he rushed into the probate clerk's office, he was anxious and irritable. 

Luckily enough, the clerk was kind; she made copies of the will and didn't take his initial brusqueness personally. He slipped the copy into a folder he'd brought and rubbed his eyes.

"Is there anything else you needed, sir?" The clerk stood, half turned away already, but still smiling.

Bilbo shook his head. "Thanks, but no. Now I've got to find a place to read this where it won't matter that I'm crying."

Her smile turned bittersweet. "It's okay, honey. We all cry, especially when people we love die." She patted his hand. "Don't you worry about what anyone else says. You cry if you need to."

In the car on the way to his parents' house, he glanced at the folder, sitting innocently on the passenger seat, and sighed. "It's time I stopped crying," he said, "and started getting things done."

He and his parents ate a hurried dinner, then moved to the living room. Bella and Bungo sat together on the couch and Bilbo sat in one of the wing chairs. He pulled the copy out of the folder and said, "Okay, so should I read it out loud or what?"

They glanced at each other, then said, "No, read it and pass us each page when you're done. We'll read it over once, then start taking notes, if we need to."

_LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF PRIMULA AND DROGO BAGGINS_

Bilbo pressed his eyes closed, clenched his jaw, and started reading.

_We, the undersigned, Primula Baggins and Drogo Baggins, being of sound mind and body, hereby declare this to be our last will and testament._

_Article I – Declarations:  
We declare that we are legally married to each other as husband and wife. We declare we have one sole living child, Frodo Baggins. _

_Article II – Expenses and Taxes:  
We direct that all expenses, debts, taxes, and funeral expenses be paid out of our estate, excepting any debt or property subject to a mortgage, which shall pass subject to such mortgage._

_Article III – Specific Personal Bequests of Tangible Property –  
To Bilbo Baggins, our cousin, we leave the desk and chair in the upstairs bedroom of the house in Hobbiton, as well as the bookshelves and their contents in that room, including the First Editions. We regret any books of his we will miss._

Bilbo rubbed his stinging eyes and passed the first page to his parents.

_To Dora and Dudo Baggins, we leave the contents of the bookshelves in the study in the house in Hobbiton, to help them continue their work with cataloging folktales. May they enjoy the books and stories, and think of us as they read._

_To Asphodel Burrows, we leave the silver flatware and the china place settings from the house in Hobbiton. We hope she enjoys them at many fancy parties._

_To Sam Gamgee, we leave the entire furnishings and gardening tools and contents of the back garden from the houses in Hobbiton and in town and the contents of the shed from the house in Hobbiton, including the structure of the shed. We hope this will help him in his future studies in botany._

_Article IV – Tangible Personal Property:  
We give all the tangible personal property that we own at the time of our death, which has not otherwise been specifically bequeathed under this will, including all personal effects, jewelry, household furniture, books, art, collections, wearing apparel, automobiles, and any and all other personal articles to our son, Frodo Baggins._

_Article V – Residential Real Estate:  
We give to our son, Frodo Baggins, absolutely and free of trust, all of our right, title and interest in all residential real estate, together with all property and liability insurance policies relating to such real estate. _

_Article VI – Residual Estate:  
All the remainder of the property we own at the time of our death, of whatever kind and nature, and wherever situated, including all property that we may acquire or become entitled to after the execution of this will, we give and bequeath to our son, Frodo Baggins, outright and free of trust._

_Article VII – Appointment of Executor:  
We nominate and appoint Dain Jarnfotor, Esq as Executor under this will and direct that no bond or other security be required for the faithful performance of his duties. In addition to any other powers that may be conferred by law, we give our Executor under this will those powers set forth in the General Statues, any of which may be exercised without the need for court order._

Bilbo lowered the papers and blinked. "Have either of you heard of a …" He looked at the will again. "Of a Dain Jarnfotor?"

His parents glanced at each other, then shook their heads. "No," said Bella. "Why?"

"He's named as their executor. Isn't Rufus acting as executor? Who put the will into probate?"

Bungo looked thoughtful. "I've no idea, but clearly this is something we need to look into." He shoved himself up off the couch and walked to the table, where Bella's little laptop stood open. "Let's start by finding out who this Dain person is."

_Article VIII – Appointment of Guardian:  
We nominate and appoint our cousin, Bilbo Baggins as guardian of the person and property of our minor child, Frodo Baggins. We direct that no bond or other security shall be required for the faithful performance of his duties._

Bilbo felt as if he'd stepped into a cold shower. "Oh fuck me, I was right. They _did_ say Frodo should stay with me."

"WHAT?" Both Bella and Bungo came to stand behind Bilbo. He pointed to the correct place on the page and noticed that his hands were shaking. 

"Well," Bella said after a short silent moment. "That's certainly clear enough. Time for a family meeting. I'll call Fortinbras in the morning."

_Article IX – Forfeiture Provision:  
If any beneficiary named herein contests the admission of this will into probate or institutes or joins in any proceedings as plaintiff to contest the validity of this will or any provision herein (except with probable cause), then all gifts, bequests, and bequeathments to such beneficiary shall lapse and our estate shall be administered and distributed as though such beneficiary had not survived us._

_IN WITNESS WHEREOF …_

Bilbo stared at the paragraph above the signatures of two people he didn't know. Then, feeling slightly dizzy, he said, "Hey dad? Can you read this and tell me if it says what I think it does?"

Bungo took the papers from Bilbo's hand and scanned them. "Which para … oh. Oh." He sank down onto the couch and stared at Bilbo over the top of the papers. "Bilbo, this … "

"So, this Jarnfotor guy is a lawyer," Bella said, from the table. "He's in town, near you actually, Bilbo, and he seems nice. Or, at least his website is clear and easy to understand and doesn't have any weird ambulance chasing sort of stuff on it." She glanced up and stopped talking, looking back and forth from Bilbo's white face to her husband. "What?"

"The will says – " Bilbo coughed, his lungs suddenly very tight. "The will says that if anyone … any beneficiary contests the will, they are written out of it. They get nothing. Right, dad? I didn't read that incorrectly?"

Bungo smiled, slow and broad and, somehow, looked very evil. "Oh yes, Bilbo, that's exactly how I read it as well. And, given that Asphodel and Rory and the rest haven't been following the will at all, I'd think we have a very good case for removing them entirely. I wonder if this Dain Jarnfotor would be interested in more Bagginses as clients."

That night, lying in his childhood bed, Bilbo found he couldn't sleep. He felt alternately dizzy with pleasure – _Soon Frodo will be home and we can get on with trying to be a family._ and then dizzy with fury – _Why the hell did Rory and Gilda do this? Or is this just Asphodel and her fucking lawyer husband?_

Eventually, he gave up and, pulling on the patchwork robe his mother had made him when he was a teenager, he went downstairs to the kitchen. To his surprise, he found Bella there already, standing over a pot of milk. She glanced up as he stood in the door.

"Can't sleep?" Her voice was soft.

He shook his head, and sat down at the kitchen table. "I just don't understand. Why would they do this? Which of them thought of it and why would they … I just …" He ran his fingers through his hair, then propped his elbows on the table and rested his face in his hands. 

The sounds of his mother making chocolate milk filled the kitchen, as they had every time he'd been unable to sleep as a child and a teenager, soothing him with their familiarity. He heard the scrape of the drawer as she took out the grater, then the low rasping from her grating the Mexican chocolate into the hot milk. The whisk made random musical sounds as she stirred, then there was a heavy thump of the cup being set down in front of him. "Drink that," she said.

He took a sip, then put the cup down, coughing. "Holy shit, mom, how much brandy did you _put_ in there?"

She giggled at him over the rim of her own cup. "Enough. Don’t talk back to your mother, young man." She set her own cup down and sat up straight, composing her expression into one of prim righteousness. "It's medicinal."

He snorted and picked his cup back up. "Yes, mom. Whatever you say." 

They sat together in the dark kitchen, sipping the chocolate and Bilbo could feel the tension slowly drain from his shoulders, down his spine, and then away from him entirely. He tipped the cup to drink the last drops and put the cup down on the table.

"It'll be okay, Bilbo." His mother's voice was very soft. "We'll figure this all out and it will be _okay_."

***

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: d.jarnfotor_

_Dear Professor Baggins,  
I'm very sorry to hear about the deaths of your cousins. I hadn't realized they'd left the will with you, but I'll be happy to perform the duties required as executor. Shall we meet on Monday?_

_Dain  
_

***

Dain turned out to be a large man with thick dark red hair pulled back into a long braid. He had a large mustache as well, combed and waxed into two points which stuck forward like tusks. Bilbo could tell that he'd been unable to control his expression when Dain burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry, I know it's a sad time – your cousins were very good people – but your face is quite amusing." Dain stood and shook Bilbo's hand across his wide, heavy wooden desk, then gestured at the chairs in front of the desk. "Have a seat and tell me what happened."

Bilbo sat down, feeling a bit bewildered. "I'm sorry, I had no idea Prim and Drogo had hired a lawyer or anything. It's been very confusing, the past month or so."

"Month? Why did you take so long to contact me? It never does to put off starting probate proceedings."

"Oh, probate's started. I was told that Prim's oldest brother, Rory, put the will in a few weeks ago." 

Dain stiffened in his chair and glared, eyes narrowed and lips pursed tightly, at Bilbo. "Why was I not contacted? As executor, notifying the state is one of my responsibilities. If you have chosen another executor, that will have long-term repercussions."

Bilbo leaned back. "I didn't even know that you were named in the will until last Friday. I didn't have a copy until then. I'd like to know how to put the Forfeiture clause into effect."

Dain's face became even more stony. "You wish to forfeit the responsibilities given you in the will? Your cousins seemed to believe you'd be willing – anxious, even – to take up the guardianship of their young son."

Bilbo's stomach clenched. "Oh NO. No, we seem to have gotten confused. I want Frodo _back_." Dain's brows drew together and Bilbo plunged on. "See, I didn't get a copy of the will – oh wait. Maybe you don't even know when this started. Drogo and Prim die … died just west of the Philippines, in Typhoon Hagupit. That was right before New Years."

Dain pulled a yellow lined pad nearer and picked up a pen. Bilbo was surprised to see it was a fountain pen. "Now, start over," Dain said, his voice deep and commanding. "What is their official date of death? And you said they died on their trip?"

Bilbo nodded. "The official date is December 15th – that was when their boat was found." He blinked back a mental image of the photo he'd seen of the destroyed boat. "And we were notified – that's me and Frodo and… anyway, the Bureau of Consular Affairs came on New Year's Day. That wasn't a good day." He watched as Dain's pen filled the pad. "And then I spent the next week or so making funeral arrangements and then there was the funeral and then we were told that Frodo would have to go live with his uncle, who he really doesn't … didn't know."

Dain stabbed him with a sharp look. "But you are listed as Frodo's guardian."

"Yes, but I didn't know that. I mean, sure, he was staying with me while his parents were on the cruise, but Asphodel and Rufus said that the will – " Bilbo broke off at the look of fury on Dain's face.

"So they did try." Dain glared down at his pad, then sighed deeply. "Well, that's informative. So, I know … _knew_ Drogo because we worked for the same firm, some years ago. He and Prim were worried that her family wouldn't be honest about things, if, well, if things didn't go as well as they could on their trip. That's why we put the forfeiture clause in the will at all. It's not a standard thing." He shrugged. "Why don't you tell me what they've done and I'll get started on fixing it."

Bilbo leaned forward and started talking, feeling a sudden rush of relief. _Things just might work out. Thank goodness Drogo knew this guy._


	54. Fifty Four - or Back in Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin gets back in touch.

The next day, Bilbo walked down the hall at school, thinking of the next things he needed to get done. He'd just finished teaching for the day, but he needed to check on Ori's progress as well as deal with some of the grading and class prep work which had built up while he'd been distracted.

He stopped into the small café outside of the science buildings and got two bagel sandwiches. While he waited for them, he noticed a group of students across the room huddled together; one had his phone tipped up and they all seemed to be watching something on the screen. A young man on the edge of the group caught his eye and turned away quickly, nudging the one with the phone, who looked apprehensive. 

The girl making the sandwiches called his name and he smiled at her as he gathered them up, then trudged up the flights of stairs to his office. 

"Ori," Bilbo said, pushing the door closed behind himself, "I brought you one of those weird egg and avocado and bacon sandwiches you like."

"Hullo, Professor!" 

Bilbo looked around at the unexpected address, then brightened. "Gimli! How have you been? I haven't see you since… it was Christmas, right?"

Gimli nodded. He wasn't sitting at the lab bench Ori was using, but had spread out his study materials over another one. "Yup. I hadn't seen this reprobate and I thought I'd drop in." He smirked at Ori, who rolled his eyes. "His new dude's keeping him busy."

Bilbo smiled, dropping his bag on his desk. "I'm sorry I've only the two sandwiches – if I'd known you were – " 

"Oh, no worries," Gimli said. "I, ah, I brought lunch." He rummaged around in his large satchel and pulled out a dark cloth bag embroidered with leaves and berries. Opening it, he pulled out several small metal containers, all of which fit into a large one. There were utensils fitted into the lid of the largest container.

Bilbo glanced at Ori, who'd suddenly perked up. He handed Ori his sandwich and sat down to eat his own lunch. 

"Well," Ori said, "that looks fancy. So who's making your lunch now?"

To Bilbo's surprise, Gimli's cheeks pinked, but he lifted his head as he set out his little boxes. "You know perfectly well I'm capable of making my own lunch," he said. Then, when Ori just raised an eyebrow, Gimli snorted. "Okay yes, Legolas made this. It's miso ramen soup." He looked down at his collection. "That's what he said, anyway. Oh, I see." He pulled out a layer of plastic wrap from the bottom of the largest container. "There's the miso. Now, is there hot water?"

Bilbo stood and filled a clean 500mL beaker. "Microwave this?" While Gimli was at the microwave, Bilbo looked at what Legolas had packed. "Oh, this is cool. He's given you some of everything. There's even – " He tipped one container over to the side. "Is this egg hard or soft boiled?"

Ori snorted into the last of his sandwich and Gimli swiped at the back of his head. 

"You just wish your boyfriend gave you such a nice lunch," Gimli said, shaking his head and smiling.

Ori grinned back. "Oh, I like what Bofur gives me, all right."

Bilbo, back at his desk, covered his eyes. "Should I leave the room?"

Gimli and Ori burst out laughing. "Nah," Gimli said, pouring the hot water onto his miso paste and dumping the noodles in with it. "How're things going with you and Thorin?" 

Bilbo stiffened and caught Ori shaking his head quickly at Gimli. Sighing, Bilbo said, "I'm not actually sure. I haven't heard from him in a week or so. He's been a bit hard to get a hold of and – " He shrugged. "I've been a bit distracted with my cousins' deaths."

"What? That nice boy?" Gimli looked up, face stark white.

"Boy? Oh, you mean Frodo? No, he's fine. Well, he's not fine, but he's alive. His parents died, out on their trip." Bilbo felt pleased that he could say it out loud without choking up. _I think I'm finally getting better._

Gimli's hands were clenched around the chopsticks he'd been using to stir his soup. "They died? How's Frodo taking it? Is there anything I can do?"

"Thank you, but no. I'm hoping to get him back soon. It might be nice if you could come for another gaming day, but that wouldn't be for another month. Maybe less. The lawyer I've got is pretty good." Bilbo finished his sandwich and crumpled its wrapping paper into a ball. "Apparently he and Drogo – Frodo's father – worked together."

"Wait." Gimli looked back and forth between Bilbo and Ori. "What do you mean 'get him _back_ '?"

_It's a good thing I'm a teacher and used to repeating myself._

***

That evening, Bilbo sat in his kitchen, wrapped tightly into the patchwork robe his mother had made him when he'd bought the house. He set up stacks of the grading he had to do and then opened his laptop. _Time to get to work._

After half an hour, he rubbed his eyes and stood to make coffee. While the coffeemaker was running, he felt his pocket vibrate. 

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_How are you? I have been out of the country for the past week. I'd love to see you, if you've time soon._

Bilbo stared at his phone. His eyes stung and he closed them, only to see the way the thin blond had been wrapped around Thorin. Taking a deep breath, Bilbo poured his coffee, topped off the cup with the last of the holiday eggnog, and sat back down at the table.

_From: Bilbo  
To: Thorin_

_I think getting together is a great idea. My schedule this quarter is different. I'm free on Wednesdays and Fridays. When are you free?  
_

Bilbo deliberately set his phone aside and went back to work. Before he'd gotten through one entire lab report, his phone buzzed.

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_I can't on Wednesday, but Friday sounds perfect. Let's meet for lunch?  
_

_From: Bilbo  
To: Thorin_

_Sure. Where would you like to meet?_

Bilbo's thumb hovered over the Send button, then he pressed his lips together and hit Delete. 

_Sure. Let's meet at Fuzio's. It's in downtown SF, upstairs in one of the big buildings. I'll be there at noon._

Bilbo hit Send. Before he'd had time to put the phone down, it buzzed again.

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_That sounds perfect. I can't wait to see you.  
_

"If you couldn't wait, you'd be here." Bilbo snapped his mouth closed. _That's not fair. He does have a job, even if it seems odd from my perspective. Maybe there's a reason he's been out of touch._

Bilbo bent his head back to his work.

***

Bilbo woke up late on Wednesday morning and lay in bed. He'd stayed up well past midnight the night before and had gotten through most of his backlogged work. He wasn't sure what to do with himself and his day off. 

Dain had told him that he'd probably have something for him today or Thursday, but Bilbo could check his email anywhere. _I think I'll have brunch out, and then maybe find a nice coffee shop or something and just have a relaxing day out of the house._

He went to his favorite little local diner spot for brunch, ordering his omelet with nopales cactus, and losing himself in a story about choices made in a desert. At the end, he leaned back. _That's an interesting variation on a theme._

When he was all finished, he chatted with his waitress about how her kids were doing at their elementary school, then he drove down to the shore and sat in the window of a coffee shop which overlooked a narrow estuary between one of the islands in the bay and the shore.

There was a small loveseat at the other end of the long windowed wall in the café, and as Bilbo watched, a couple settled down to sit and, he assumed, watch the boats. To his surprise, they turned so they could see into the café. Then they cuddled together and one took out her phone, holding it up in front of her face. He wondered if they could see anything on the screen with the sunlight shining directly at it through the window.

After an hour of just watching the huge container boats slip past and down to the docks, he sighed and took out his laptop. 

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: d.jarnfotor_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_Well, excellent! I've got the ball rolling. It'll be a judge I know, so that's good and you say that Frodo will stand up for himself, which'll go over well. I don't know what Rufus Burrows thinks he's about, trying this on when he knows that the judge who'll get this is Kliszewski. If he wants to be stupid in our favor, though, more power to him._

_I'll let you know when there's an actual date. I've sent off the preliminary stuff, though, so give it a week?_

_Dain  
_

Bilbo nodded firmly. A week wasn't long at all, especially not after how long he'd been waiting. Thoughfully, he started an email of his own.

_To: BellaBaggins  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Mom,_

_Dain says that we'll have information about a court date in about a week. I've forwarded his email to you. However, I think we should talk to Rory and Gilda before then. I don't know what sort of stuff Asphodel and Rufus are saying and it's been worrying me._

_I've heard from Thorin and we're meeting for lunch on Friday, but I expect I can come up for the weekend. Let's plan to meet Old Rory on Saturday, okay?_

_Bilbo  
_

He opened a new document and paused for a moment, staring at the blank page. "No time like the present," he muttered, and started typing. Several minutes later, he'd forgotten everything except the story he was outlining. The popup notification of an email made him jump.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: BellaBaggins_

_I've already called Gilda and talked to her. She says she and Rory haven't seen the will, so I was thinking of having them to dinner and just letting them read it. I'll be able to tell a lot more about what's going on if I can see how they react when they read the will for themselves._

_They're coming tomorrow night. I'll keep you posted._

_Love you, kiddo. Let your father and I know what happens with Thorin, okay?_

_Mom  
_

Bilbo ran a hand through his hair. "Jeezus, Mom," he said softly. "That's … not what I expected."

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to get back to writing, he packed up and drove home. 

Thursday was calm. He spent the afternoon at Lorien, talking through a complicated bit of chemistry with one of the researchers there and ended up eating dinner at the restaurant on the premises, surrounded by other scientists; the resulting discussion ranged from the newest science fiction movie set on Mars to the gender of people found in Viking gravesites.

Bilbo drove home, the radio in his car set to the modern rock station, feeling unexpectedly optimistic.

_To: BellaBaggins  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Well? How'd it go? How did Frodo look?  
_

Friday morning, he was more anxious. At first he tried to read through some of the chemical journals he'd fallen behind on, but he couldn't concentrate. He couldn't tell if he was just excited to see Thorin again or angry at him for not talking about whatever had made him retreat.

He drove across the bridge and stopped in at Nori's office only to find that Nori was away for the week – something about a writers convention. Nori's secretary promised to make him email Bilbo and asked if he was going to be bringing in any more of the lovely scones. He laughed and promised to email her the recipe.

He got to the restaurant early and was given a table in one of the windows. Down below he could see the business people scurrying from one Starbucks to the next, each of them clutching a cup and a briefcase, all nearly indistinguishable in their dark suits and sober haircuts. 

One woman caught his attention as she walked in the opposite direction from the rest; she wore a bright orange shirt over pink pants and strode through the grey and black crowd as if she weren't even aware they existed. _There's always something interesting in the city. I wonder what her story is._ She disappeared around a corner and he laughed under his breath. _And I'll never know. Oh well._

The hostess seated a blonde woman wearing a black jacket over a long dark dress. She sat and propped her phone up against the salt shaker, then opened her menu. As the hostess passed Bilbo, she smiled. 

A moment later, she stepped back into the room and gestured; Thorin strode behind her. He smiled and said something to her, then looked at Bilbo and his smile spread. 

"Bilbo," he said, slipping into the chair across the table from Bilbo. "You look very good. How are you?" He pressed his hand to Bilbo's for a second, then picked up his menu. 

Bilbo sighed. _Dammit, he's still just as attractive as ever._ "Thanks. I'm … I'm better. Not great, but better. I think I might be able to get Frodo back – " 

Thorin's face lit. "Oh that's fabulous news! Did his family – other family – change their minds?"

"No," Bilbo said, but then the waitress came to the table and they spent the next few moments ordering. They both ordered coffee, which came nearly immediately. 

Then Thorin leaned forward and slid his fingers around Bilbo's wrist. "Oh Bilbo," he said, his expression one Bilbo couldn't quite decipher. "I've missed you so much."


	55. FIFTY FIVE – or What exactly was your family involved in?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo doesn't get the answer he's expecting and gets an email from someone unexpected. All in all, it's a bit of a startling beginning to the weekend.

Bilbo stared at him, then coughed. "I, ah – " His fingers twitched and Thorin's face fell. "I mean, I've missed you as well," Bilbo continued, in a rush. "Why don't you tell me what you've been doing."

Thorin smiled and curled his fingers tighter around Bilbo's. "It's been – I've been catching up with something that my family's been tangled up in for, well, since my grandfather, at least." 

The waitress came with the thyme fries they'd ordered as an appetizer and an unnecessary refill for their coffee. On her way out of the room, she stopped at the blonde woman's table and they chatted for a moment. 

Bilbo dipped a fry in the garlic dip and ate it, leaning his chin on the palm of one hand. "What did your grandfather do?"

Thorin swallowed his own fries and sighed. "He did a lot of things – it was the 20's and he spent a lot of time overseas. He was in Egypt and all over north Africa, and I think he poked about in eastern Europe as well. I'm not entirely sure what he was doing, but occasionally I – or my father – has to deal with something from then." Thorin ate another few fries, looking thoughfully down at the plate.

_That … Huh._ "So, how do you deal with the things about him if you don't know what he was doing?" Bilbo licked the salt off his fingers; Thorin's eyes followed the movement of his hands. 

"I … what? Oh, right." Thorin looked a little distracted. "Oh, well, he was into archaeology and other stuff. I know he wrote some books which were pretty well liked at the time. I don't know how they compare to modern stuff."

Bilbo smiled at the waitress, who'd come with their entrees. "Thank you," he said, picking up his fork. "It looks delicious, as always." After a bite or two, he looked back at Thorin. "What did he write about?"

"Who? Oh, my grandfather. He wrote histories of the areas he was exploring." Thorin paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. "You know, I don't remember reading more than one of them. They were much less interesting to me than the weird old stuff Grampa had in his house." He chuckled. "There was this great big bull – man … thing I used to sit on. I've seen others in museums since. Persian, I think they are."

"Lamassu? Your grandfather had you sitting on a _lamassu_?" Bilbo set his fork down. "That's … wow. Where'd he get it?"

Thorin shrugged. "I never asked. He died when I was a kid, just a year or two after Dis was born, in fact. He was just this huge, happy man who had loads of cool stuff, you know?"

Bilbo nodded. _Yeah, but that big man had Persian antiquities. What an odd thing to keep in one's house rather than give to a museum. I guess times were different._ "Where is it now?"

"The statue? My father gave it – and most of the rest of Grampa's stuff – to museums. I never asked." Thorin stirred his noodles with his fork. "I hadn't really thought about him much until just recently. My father never talks about him."

"How … I'm sorry, I guess this is a nosy question." Bilbo jumped as Thorin ran his fingers over the back of Bilbo's hand.

"No, please, ask me anything." Thorin leaned forward, his blue eyes suddenly deeper.

"How big is your family? I mean, you've got some cousins, and Dis and her boys, of course, but you don't talk about your mother at all, or her family." He shrugged. "I just noticed now, really. I mean, I know everyone on both sides of my parents' families – and sometimes it seems as if they know everything about me, in return."

Thorin smiled, but it looked a little wistful. "There's really just me and Dis. And Fili and Kili, of course. Dwalin and Balin are cousins, and so are Gloin and Oin, but they're … I don't know. I think we share a great-grandfather? They're close family because we grew up near each other, not because we're actually _close_ , if that makes sense."

Bilbo nodded. "The way Drogo and Prim and I were closer to each other than she was to her siblings." He pushed away his empty plate and ran a hand through his hair. "I miss them."

Thorin pushed away his own plate and cradled Bilbo's hands in his. "I'm so sorry. Losing people you love is always hard." They sat silently for a minute while the plates were cleared away, then Thorin leaned forward. "You said something about being able to get Frodo back? How's that going?"

Bilbo smiled. "Oh! We got a copy of the will – did you know they're public? Anyway, so I drove up to Sacramento and got a copy, then went home to read it." 

"What, all alone? Why didn't you call me?" 

Bilbo felt a spike of frustration. _Because you've been bloody well unavailable._ "Oh, not alone, I went home to my parents' house. And, anyway, that's the least important part. Turns out that none of what Prim's family was saying is true. Frodo _was_ supposed to stay with me, and he gets everything of theirs – of course, why wouldn't he? And Dain seems to think that – " 

Thorin sat up straight. "Dain? What's he got to do with this?"

"He's my lawyer. You know him?"

"He's my cousin. How did you find him?" Thorin looked very startled.

"He and Drogo worked together, years ago. He's the one who drew up their will, in fact." Bilbo felt a bit startled, himself. "Oh, and that reminds me, did you know you're related to Nori?"

"I … what?" Thorin shook his head. "I think I'd know if I were related to the keyboardist in my band."

Bilbo felt a laugh bubbling in his stomach. "Apparently, your very far distant grandfather was involved with their similiarly distant grandmother. Nori said they'd looked it up in a will."

Thorin stared at him, mouth slightly open. "That's …" He started laughing and Bilbo saw the blonde woman watching them, a bemused expression on her face. "I can't wait to tell everyone."

"Dori never told you, then?"

"No, never. I wonder why not." Thorin pulled out his wallet when the waitress came to the table with the bill, but she shook her head at him and handed it to Bilbo, who glanced at it, wrote in the tip, signed his name and handed it back.

"Very slick," Thorin said, still grinning. "How'd you get her to do that?"

"I gave her my credit card when I got here, so they just ran it as soon as we were done." 

Outside, they walked slowly along the path, looking down onto the busy streets below. "What are you doing this weekend?" Thorin asked, leaning on one of the low walls overlooking a narrow street. "I'd love to catch up." His mouth curved into a slow, hot smile and Bilbo felt himself heating up in response.

"I – ah, actually I'm going to my parents' house. We've got stuff to talk about, about Frodo and the court thing. She had Frodo's aunt and uncle over for dinner, the ones who've got him right now. She was planning on showing them the will."

Thorin's eyes widened. "How'd they take it?"

Bilbo tucked his hands into his pockets. "I don't know. She was supposed to email me, but I didn't hear last night and I haven't had a chance to check my email since this morning." He watched the reflection of clouds move in the windows of a tall building nearby. "So, I'm going up there to find out and to work on our strategy."

Thorin stepped closer and reached for Bilbo, sliding a hand from Bilbo's shoulder to his wrist. "Hey, if you need anything, call me. I – " He stared down into Bilbo's eyes, slowly bending closer, then he twitched suddenly and his face contracted. "I miss you."

"Then why didn't you call?" Bilbo pressed his lips together, then stepped back, pulling away from Thorin's hands. "No, don't answer that. You don't have to – it's not any of my business." He took another step backwards. "I'll keep in touch, okay?" His glance skittered away from Thorin's expression, and Bilbo turned and tried to pretend to himself he wasn't running away.

That evening, he sat with his parents at the kitchen table over a dinner made of leftovers from the dinner Bella had made for Rory and Gilda.

"Well," she said, sitting down and draping her napkin on her lap. "I'm sorry I didn't email, but by the time I remembered, you'd have been on your way here." She stretched to pick up the green beans with almonds. "They had no idea. Poor Gilda's face was a study, it's too bad we couldn’t get video." 

At her side, Bungo shook his head. "I don't know what line Asphodel spun them – " 

Bella shook her head. "She didn't. She said that she wanted to get Frodo to be a part-time babysitter for their boy Milo, but Gilda said she thought that he might be happier if he didn't have to share anyone, so he should go live with them." Bella set her fork and knife on her plate, pressed her palms to the table, and looked hard at Bilbo.

"They just thought that he'd be better with them than with her, which says a damned lot about how everyone sees Asphodel and her schmuck of a husband. They offered to bring Frodo to you right away, but we agreed that we should do this through the courts so there's no more … confusion."

Bilbo's stomach felt tight and sour. "I'm glad they weren't involved … I mean – " He smiled at his father's snort. "You know what I mean. I'm glad they weren't part of deliberately hurting Frodo. Gilda seemed so honestly happy last time I saw her about Frodo being happier. I couldn't make that fit with her keeping him away on purpose."

"So anyway," Bungo said, "they're bringing Frodo over tomorrow. I said that you were coming up and Rory insisted." He drank the last of his beer and belched, laughing when Bella playfully swatted his arm. "Hey," he cried, "it's a compliment in the Gilbert Islands."

Bilbo just shook his head. _I don't think my parents will ever grow up._ He watched them for a moment. _And that's a very good thing._

Then Bungo turned to him. "So, you had lunch with Thorin? How'd that go?"

Bilbo pushed his plate away. "Fine, I guess."

"You guess?" Bella's eyebrows were raised. 

"We went to Fuzio's and – " 

"Firecracker pork fusilli?" Bungo's voice was dry.

Bilbo snorted. "I can't help it that I like it so much." He rubbed his neck. "Anyway, I asked about where he's been and he didn't really say. I sort of got distracted at the time, but thinking it over, he just … didn't answer. He's got a grandfather who kept a lamassu in his house and wrote history books about eastern Europe – I think – but he didn't say what he was actually doing. I mean, Thorin didn't say what _he'd_ been doing, not what he grandfather was doing."

Bella and Bungo traded looks. 

"Oookay, but what does his grandfather have to do with it?" Bella asked, just as Bungo yelped, "He kept a lamassu in his _house_?"

Bilbo huffed a short laugh. "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction as well. Apparently he did archaeology? I don't know. Anyway, mom, Thorin said he'd been doing something to do with his grandfather. Some 'mess' or something. He really just _didn't say_." 

They sat silently. Bilbo turned his plate around, looking at the way the chicken bones, smear of potato, and three peas cast different shadows as the plate turned. He sighed. "I just can't think about it now. I have to concentrate on Frodo and getting him back. It … I … " He pressed his lips together, feeling the tight stinging behind his eyes that only came when he was about to cry. "FUCK," he said. 

Bella stood and took his plate. "I made cheesecake with a brownie crust. Let's have some boozy coffee and pig out." She gathered some of the dishes, nodded her head at Bungo to collect the rest, then looked at Bilbo. "Go upstairs and change into your pajamas, young man, or no dessert or you."

Upstairs, surrounded by the bedroom which had been the safest place for him as a child, he sank down on the bed and felt the inevitable tears surge forward. After a second, he heaved in a breath, rubbed his face dry with both palms, then stood and started changing clothes. _Dammit. Why do I always fall in love with people who turn out to be jerks?_

The next morning, over a leisurely, late breakfast, he checked his email.

_From: TwinSwords  
To: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_May I still call you Bilbo, even though my uncle is, apparently, a total ass? I just saw him for the first time in weeks and he said that he hasn't seen you?_

_Are you okay? How's Frodo? I did get Thorin to say that you're getting him back – and that our cousin Dain's your lawyer. Hey, did you know that Dain's son is named Thorin, as well? You should totally ask how Thorin's doing, see what Dain says._

_Anyway, I just wanted to say that no matter what happens with you and Thorin, you've always got us, me and Kili. Promise._

_Let us know if you need anything._  
Fili  


Bilbo gaped at his laptop. "What the hell?" He re-read the email and felt a rush of warmth. "Well," he said, standing up at a burst of noise near the front door that sounded like a car arriving. "That was unexpected."

Frodo burst into the room. "Hey Uncle Bilbo, guess what? I can come back!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [These](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lamassu) are lamassu. Many people know them by sight, but most don't know their name. I love them, I must admit.


	56. Fifty Six - Bilbo didn't see that coming and it's time for court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo spends a surprising - and pleasant - weekend with his family. Things finally are coming to a head, though, and so it's time for Family Court.

Rory and Gilda refused to stay – Gilda insisted they had errands to run which were vitally important, must be done immediately, and with which they didn't need any help. Behind her, Rory just shrugged and nodded agreement; they refused even to come inside, to Bella's obvious distress.

Bilbo watched this from the bay window in the living room; he could hear Frodo chattering like a magpie to Bungo, in the kitchen, and the counterpoint of his nephew's happy tones with the forced cheerfulness of the faces outside made Bilbo feel wretched.

Bella shut the door behind herself and came to stand next to him at the window, watching Rory and Gilda's tail lights as they turned left out of the driveway. She sighed and leaned her head on Bilbo's shoulder.

"You know," she said. "I'm beginning to feel bad for them."

"I know what you mean. They looked really unhappy." Bilbo hugged her.

In the kitchen, Bilbo let Frodo finish his story about a tv show he'd watched recently and said, "Kiddo, you're going to have to keep visiting them." Frodo's expression shifted towards mutiny, but Bilbo ploughed on. "They care about you a lot, they _are_ your family, and they're lonely."

"They took me away from you," Frodo said, arms crossed.

"Actually," Bungo said, turning away from the soup he'd been stirring. "They didn't. Asphodel and her husband were the ones who started all of this. Your uncle and aunt didn't think you'd like being babysitter for their son – have you met Milo yet?" At Frodo's disgusted expression, Bungo chuckled. "As you have, then you can see why Rory and Gilda thought you might not want to have to spend much time with him."

Frodo dropped his arms and sank into a chair, propping his chin on one hand. "So, wait. Rory and Gilda had the will, so it's their fault, no matter what they say."

Bella sighed. "They were _supposed_ to have the will, but when I asked if Rory read the will before bringing it to the Probate Department, Gilda said that Rufus had taken it just after Drogo and Prim left it with them. He said something about it needing to be kept in a safe place and they have a safe, so…" Bella ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it into a ponytail and wrapping it with an elastic band. "So, they never saw the will, and it was Rufus who brought it to Probate."

Frodo looked at her, his face showing hurt and confusion. "Why'd they do that?"

Bella sat across from him. "I don't know. I sort of don't _care_ , honestly, except that it's taken us far too long to see what they've been up to. I think – " She turned to look at Bilbo. "I think we'll have to have Dain look into all of Prim and Drogo's investments and stuff, just to be sure. Asphodel and Rufus aren't hurting for money, but one can never tell."  


Bilbo nodded, then pulled out his phone and made a note. Seeing his email program made him smile. 

"You'll never guess who I got an email from," he said. They all turned to look at him. "Fili Ekegren."

"Thorin's nephew?" Bella said. She was smiling, but her eyes held suspicion.

Bungo turned back to the soup. "This needs to simmer for a little while, but it'll be ready for lunch later. What did the young man want?"

Bilbo shrugged. "He said that his uncle's being an ass – "

"He's got that right," muttered Bungo.

"Wait," Frodo said, sitting up straight. "What's going on with Thorin? Did you have a fight?"

Bilbo stared at him, mouth slightly open. _What? Oh god, he doesn't know. Shit._ "Ah. Right. So, I haven't seen much of Thorin recently." 

"Why? Is he sick?" Frodo leaned forward.

"I don't think so, kiddo." Bilbo sat down at the table and smiled up at his father, who was passing out cups of coffee. "Thanks dad. No," he turned back to Frodo. "I don't think he's sick, I think he's … well, I think it turned out that I … that being in a relationship with me wasn't quite what he thought it would be. So, he's, well. Stopped being interested."

Frodo recoiled, face filled with rage. "That's fucking … what an _asshole!!_ And after being with him got you stalked at school and everything."

Bilbo reached out and wrapped his fingers around Frodo's forearm. "Thank you very much, Frodo. It's okay, though." Frodo's face twisted and Bilbo's breath caught. "I know, I'm sorry. I mean, I'm not happy about it – I thought he was nice, but it's okay to learn that you're not really interested in someone and then stop dating them."

Bella stood up, the sound of her chair legs scraping across the floor loud in the room. "I'm going to my painting shed and you – " She pointed to Frodo. "Said you were going to help me with some poses I need. So finish your cup of whatever my husband gave you and let's get going. I have a book to finish."

Frodo's face was still filled with anger, but he drained his cup and slouched out of the room after her. After a moment, Bilbo could hear his voice asking what poses Bella needed.

Bungo sat down in the chair Frodo had vacated. He gazed into the depths of his cup and swirled it gently. "That went well."

Bilbo surprised himself by bursting into laughter. 

***

That afternoon, Bilbo took a break from working on outlining his next story and checked his email. He'd seen several notifications pop up, but had ignored them while the story was still taking shape in his mind.

One was from Ori about his research project and catching up on planning the undergraduate labs for the quarter. Two were ads from places Bilbo had shopped at online – the online art store was having a Valentine's Day sale! The third was from Nori.

_From: Nori@ConsortBooks  
To: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Bilbo,_

__WHAT _have you been doing? How the hell did you get him to change his tune? I don't think I've ever seen him do this._

_Nori  
_

There was a link to Gundabad in the email and, completely confused, Bilbo clicked on it.

 _OAKENDICK DUMPS PROFESSOR – YET MORE PROOF HE'S A MORON_ screamed the little icon of a bald scarred man. Bilbo assumed it was supposed to look like Azog, but he'd never looked to see if there were pictures of him. 

_Well, we all knew it was only a matter of time before Oakenshield gave up on the little professor, but after a bit of thought, we've decided that he's entirely an asshole for doing so. Sure, he could be – and most likely is – banging a different hot young thing every day, but when pure-hearted domesticity and honest companionship – the sort you can trust to love you through thick and thin – is at your side, only an absolute pillock would pass it up._

_And, to no one's surprise, that's exactly what Thorin's done. What a twit._

_However, it means that the hot professor's single again! We all know he's smart, and it's rumored he's a good cook as well.  
_

Bilbo read the post twice, closed the browser window, opened a new one and typed the Gundabad address in directly. The post about him and Thorin was at the top of the page, along with a photograph of himself someplace he couldn't quite recognize. He was sitting at a small wooden table, his laptop open – obscuring his chin, but not his face and the reading glasses perched on his nose. There was a bit of window next to him; he could see shadowy reflections of other people in it. After a moment's scrutiny, he remembered the waterside coffee shop he'd been in and groaned. _Those two people in the couch weren't trying to read something from their fucking …_

He closed his laptop and left the office. _Mom'll have something for me to do, surely. Maybe she needs some bread made._

***

He was a little afraid to check his mail for the rest of the weekend, so he spent most of the time either talking to Frodo about what he wanted to do when he came home, and helping around the house. Bella _did_ have a list of things she wanted done – Bungo wasn't allowed to do half of the winter maintenance tasks for fear of exacerbating his lungs, so Bilbo had the chance to enjoy activities such as standing half through the attic access on a tottery ladder while his father shouted instructions about what the insulation should look like, and dragging out all the car mats for vacuuming while Bella told Frodo how to properly clean the inside of a car.

Sunday night, after Frodo had been picked up by Rory and Gilda – who'd consented to have dinner with them – Bilbo opened his email again.

_From: ProfBBaggins  
To: Nori@ConsortBooks_

_Dear Nori,_

_What the hell. I have no idea why Azog does anything. I thought that now that Thorin's … well, now that Thorin's not really dating me any more, Azog would lose interest._

_In other news, I've got the outline for my next series finished. I've enclosed it here. Let me know what you think. I'm thinking another trilogy._

_I think we're going to court this week. I'll let you know how it goes. If things go the way we want, I'll be having a great big party at my house. You and Sara and your pack of urchins are expected. Of course._

_Bilbo  
_

He thought for a minute, then hit Compose.

_From: ProfBBaggins  
To: TwinSwords_

_Dear Fili,_

_I was surprised to hear from you – pleasantly surprised. I'm glad to have you and Kili's friendship, even if not your uncle's. I hope being friends with me won't cause trouble between you two and Thorin._

_Dain has said that we've a court date this week – Friday, I think. If things go as I hope, I'm going to have a party at my house. Would you and Kili – and his lovely redheaded young lady Tauriel – be interested in attending? You can, of course, bring anyone you want. The more the merrier!_

_Bilbo  
_

Bilbo didn't think he'd be able to concentrate on his work for the week but the reality of midterms and grading – and the chaos of daily chemistry labs – turned out to be enough to keep him focused on something other than the upcoming court date. 

Wednesday he spent head down, doing nothing but grading, but even after he had spent six hours on the tests, he still had at least ten to go. That night he dreamt of carbon atoms screaming in pain as people kept trying to stick more and more methyl groups into them. 

On Friday, he woke up early, had a long hot shower, changed into his best suit, and drove to the courthouse. It was downtown, next to the police station, and surrounded by doughnut shops and bail bond companies with flashing neon signs. He waited for the courthouse to open; there was a large group of people waiting with him, but most of them seemed to be there for traffic issues and many of them were loud. He wished he'd been able to have more than half a cup of coffee before coming, but his stomach was too upset. He passed through the metal detectors without any trouble and walked to the elevators. 

Upstairs, things were much quieter. Traffic court happened on the two floors lower down, so he was alone in the hall outside the Family courtrooms. Most of one wall was windows; he stood looking out over downtown, watching cars and people move through the streets below him.

"Bilbo, I have no idea why you thought this would be a good idea." 

Bilbo looked at Asphodel's reflection in the window, sucked in a deep breath, and turned around. "How nice to see you, Asphodel." He glanced around. "Where's Rufus?"

"Oh, he's back talking to the judge. They play golf." She crossed her arms and tilted her head up a little. 

Just then the courtroom door opened and Rufus stepped out, smiling. He was carrying a briefcase in one hand and had a folder of papers in the other. He stepped next to his wife and raised his eyebrows at Bilbo. "You'll be paying my hourly rate for this waste of time, Bilbo," he said.

Before Bilbo could respond, the elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and Dain strode into the hallway. Bilbo saw Rufus' face turn slightly green and Asphodel's eyes widen. 

Dain wore an impeccably fitted silvery grey suit; the shirt underneath was shocking rust-red and his tie was dark grey, almost metallic. What caught Bilbo's attention was the two bone points which were on the tips of his mustache; they looked as if they were antique scrimshaw. His hair fell down his shoulders like a red cape. He carried a small briefcase made of what appeared to be boarhide with the fur still on.

He strode towards them, his smile edged and sharp. When he stood next to Rufus, Bilbo realized just how small Rufus really was. 

"Rufus Burrows. Unpleasant to see you, as always." Dain's eyes raked Asphodel up and down. "I see you're still travelling in low circles. At least you're predictable."

The courtroom doors opened and a young black woman wearing a Sheriff's uniform leaned out. "Mr Jarnfotor? Mr Burrows? The judge is almost ready for you."

Rufus scurried over, followed by Asphodel. Dain didn't follow immediately, but turned to Bilbo. "Frodo not here yet?"

Bilbo shook his head, but just then the elevator dinged again and Bilbo heard his mother's voice. He smiled. "There they are now."

Dain nodded. "Excellent. We'll just go get this started. Don't worry. It'll be a rout." He strode towards the door, where the deputy had been quietly keeping Rufus and Asphodel from entering the courtroom. 

Bilbo turned to watch Frodo trailing behind Bella and Bungo. Frodo's eyes were huge as he watched Dain's back go through the doors.

"Is that your lawyer?" he asked.

Bella seemed equally struck and Bungo exchanged an amused glance with Bilbo. 

"Actually, kiddo," Bilbo said, "he's sort of your lawyer. He knew your dad years ago."

The sheriff opened the door again. "You're the Bagginses, right? They're all waiting for you. Come on."

Bilbo pulled in a deep breath, reached out and held Frodo's hand, and stepped through the large double doors into the courtroom.


	57. Fifty Seven – How would YOU define ‘rout’, exactly?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo hasn't thought the legalities of this whole situation through, but he's not the one who has to. He has a lawyer for that - and a damned good one, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got several legal pointers from a friend of mine. I'm sure I've committed many faults, but he's been a great help.
> 
> If you're ever in need of legal representation (and I hope you're not in need of his type of representation), he's a great guy. Here's my Advising Attorney, Mr Applegate. [Mr Applegate, Esq](http://www.charles-applegate.com/)
> 
> I must say, he helps people who are in such desperate need of help that I can't imagine how awful their lives are. Take a minute to hug your loved ones, okay?

The courtroom was empty except for a few sheriffs standing at the back, a woman sitting to the side of the room behind the strangest typewriter Bilbo had ever seen, and a middle-aged balding man standing behind the judge’s seat shuffling papers. The balding man glanced up as they came through the door, and turned to nod at the group of sheriffs. 

Dain gestured for Bilbo and Frodo to sit just behind the low wall which separated the actual court from what Bilbo thought of as the ‘audience’. Asphodel sat in the same place on the other side of the aisle. She was glaring at Rufus' back; he'd sat down at a small table in front of her.

Dain opened his briefcase and took out a small pad of paper and a dark gold pen. He didn’t sit down, and just as Bilbo was beginning to wonder why, the balding man tapped square the papers he’d been reading, put the top two on the judge’s desk and tucked the rest under his arm.

He stepped down to a small desk next to and below the judge’s, which Bilbo hadn’t noticed. Then the back door opened and a bailiff said, “All rise. This court is now in session, the Honorable Kliszewski presiding.”

The judge, a stocky man with short steel grey hair and large old-fashioned wire-frame glasses, strode to his seat, nodded at the man and woman who’d been in the room when Bilbo had come in, then sat down. The judge said, “Be seated.” and everyone sat down.

The judge glanced at the papers on his desk, then gazed out at the people in the room. He ignored Dain and Rufus, but his eyes rested on each of the audience; when he looked at Bilbo, it felt like he was being weighed up. After a moment, the judge sighed and started talking.

"This is the matter of the Guardianship of Frodo Baggins – " 

There was a slight tapping sound from the side of the room and Bilbo looked to see what was making it. The woman at the typewriter was tapping quickly and Bilbo realized he'd never actually seen a court reporter's tools. After a moment, he returned his attention to the judge, who'd finished speaking. 

Dain sat up straight and said, "Your Honor, we have a copy of the will of Drogo and Primula Baggins, and it clearly states their choice of Professor Bilbo Baggins, their cousin, as the legal guardian of their minor son, Frodo Baggins. As Professor Baggins has no objection to this guardianship, we would like it to begin immediately."

Rufus leaned forward. "That's as may be, your Honor. The rest of the family would prefer that Frodo stay with a member of the family."

"This Professor Baggins is a cousin. Surely that's still considered a family member," Judge Kliszewksi said.

Rufus shrugged. "He's a very distant cousin, barely connected at all."

The judge nodded. "The child – " He glanced at the papers on his desk. "Frodo Baggins. He is sixteen?"

"Yes, your Honor," Dain said. 

"What is his opinion in the matter?" The judge didn't look at Frodo – he was still looking at Dain, who smiled broadly.

"I believe he is here and willing to speak for himself." Dain turned and gestured to Frodo, who looked tense but determined. Frodo edged past Bella, Bungo, and Bilbo, then came to stand next to Dain. 

The judge smiled at him. "You are Frodo Baggins?"

Frodo nodded, swallowed, and then said, "Yes sir."

"It's good to meet you. I'm sorry it's under these circumstances." Judge Kliszewski paused, then continued. "Where have you been living for the past month?"

"With my uncle and aunt, sir." Frodo shifted on his feet. Dain leaned up and whispered something in Frodo's ear and he glanced down at him, then nodded. "I'm sorry. With my uncle and aunt, your Honor."

The judge's smile broadened for a second, then he sobered. "With Rufus and Asphodel Burrows?"

Frodo recoiled. "No si – your Honor. With my other uncle and aunt, Rory and Gilda Burrows. Rory's my mother's oldest brother."

"Ah. And before that you lived with your cousin Bilbo Baggins?" The judge folded his hands together on the bench in front of himself.

"Yeah. My bo… my best friend lives behind us – him. And – " Frodo closed his mouth and swallowed, his shoulders suddenly slumping. 

"You're old enough now to have some input into your future. Would you prefer to continue living with your mother's family, or would you prefer to live with your cousin, Bilbo?"

"Uncle _Bilbo_!" Frodo was vibrating, staring up at the judge, hands clenched tightly into fists. 

"He's not your uncle," Asphodel yelped, but the expression on the judge's face as it snapped up to look at her made her close her mouth hard enough that Bilbo heard the sound of her teeth clicking together. 

The judge looked back at Frodo and smiled. "Thank you for your input. You may take your seat again."

When Frodo was sitting down – next to Bilbo, this time, the judge unfolded his hands and placed them flat on his desk. "In the matter of Guardianship of Frodo Baggins, the court directs that Frodo Baggins be placed in the custody of, and under the guardianship of, Professor Bilbo Baggins, said guardianship to take effect immediately." Judge Kliszewski handed the papers on his desk to the man who'd put them there before court opened, then folded his hands again. 

"Thank you. Now, this court has one more thing to address. First, will Frodo Baggins and – " The judge paused. "I'm sorry," he said, looking at Bungo and Bella. "Are you the uncle and aunt with whom he's been staying?"

Bungo stood up. "No, your Honor. We're Bilbo's parents. Rory and Gilda couldn't come."

The judge nodded. "Thank you. Will you please take Frodo out of the room and wait with him in the hallway for a few more minutes? Professor Baggins, please remain in the courtroom."

Bella squeezed Bilbo's arm as she passed him on her way out. "We'll see you in a minute or two," she whispered, then followed Bungo and Frodo out of the courtroom.

Bilbo looked at the judge, who was reading something on his desk, then at Dain, who looked filled with a sudden, vicious glee. When the outside door thunked closed, the judge looked up. He swept the room with his gaze, then turned to the young sheriff who'd called them all into the courtroom and nodded at her.

"Will Rufus Burrows and Asphodel Burrows please approach the bench." Judge Kliszewski's voice was very sober.

As they did, the sheriff stepped forward and said, "Rufus Burrows, Asphodel Burrows. You are both under arrest for the kidnapping of Frodo Baggins." She pulled a set of handcuffs from her belt and reached for Rufus' hands. He recoiled, but not fast enough. The sound of the handcuffs ratcheting was very loud.

Asphodel tried backing up to get away, but found that another of the sheriffs had moved behind her when she was distracted. He immediately pulled her hands together behind her back and snapped his own handcuffs on her.

Rufus tugged away from the sheriff and turned to Dain. "You can't do this. I didn't kidnap Frodo – he went willingly."

Dain stood and leaned his full weight on his hands on the desk. "I can and I have. You knew exactly what that will said and you deliberately lied about it. Kidnapping is only one of the charges you'll be seeing." He grinned, suddenly, sharp and aggressive. "You'll be needing a good lawyer."

The two sheriffs pulled Asphodel and Rufus through a side door Bilbo hadn't noticed. Bilbo stared after them, mouth hanging slightly open. He swung around to Dain. "Kidnapping?"

"Yes, Professor," Judge Kliszewski said, voice still grave. "Now, about Frodo."

"His room's ready and waiting, your Honor," Bilbo said, "and I can't wait to have him come home."

"Yes, good," the judge said. "There will be, from the papers I see here, other issues which will require your involvement, but I wanted to talk to you for a moment. You're Frodo's cousin?"

"First and second, once removed," Bilbo said, promptly. "We're related on both sides. I mean, on his mother's and father's side. They were … " He pressed his lips together, suddenly remembering the three of them standing in front of Bella when they'd been just about Frodo's age, being dressed down for having broken a pair of matching vases which had been wedding gifts. Bilbo sucked in a deep breath and continued. "We were best friends growing up. Much closer to siblings than distant cousins." 

The judge's face was sympathetic. "My first concern is, of course, Frodo's welfare, but it appears that having him live with you will work well."

"Thank you, your Honor," Bilbo said, not quite sure what to say next. 

The judge smiled. "You're welcome. Take care of him." He paused, looked around at the staff and said, "This court is no longer in session."

Dain patted Bilbo's shoulder and said, "I'll be out right behind you."

Out in the hallway, Frodo pounced on Bilbo, laughing. "I can come home! I can't wait. Rory and Gilda let me pack this week, so I can come home right away!"

Bilbo hugged him back. "That's great. your room just as you left it. Well," he grinned. "Now it's cleaner."

Bella leaned in and hugged them both, her face alight. "This is great. What did the judge want to talk to you about? And where are Rufus and Asphodel? I'd like to give them a piece of my mind."

Bilbo coughed. "They've been arrested."

Bella stepped back. "What?" Frodo stared, eyes and mouth wide open. Behind them, Bungo looked sharply interested, but not surprised.

"For kidnapping," Bilbo said.

"I thought so," Bungo said. "There was no way what they were doing was legal. I wonder what their finances look like."

"Like hell, I'd imagine." Dain had just come through the courtroom doors. "I'm having all their financial records subpoenaed as well as everything else we can think of." He rubbed his hands together. "Now, I know a great barbeque restaurant just down the street. Want lunch?"

That night, Bilbo sat out in his back yard, wrapped tightly in blankets, staring up at the overcast sky reflecting back the city lights. "Dammit guys, why did you go and die? Why didn't you wait until Frodo was grown up before taking that fucking cruise? Why'd you leave him – and me? How am I supposed to do this on my own?" 

The sky had no response, and after another hour – when he was shivering too hard to sit comfortably – he went inside.

_From: ProfBBaggins  
To: (Group) Welcome Home Party_

_Well, Frodo's coming home! He'll be back home tomorrow morning, so we'd love it if you could come over any time after 4. I'll make food, but bring anything you think we'd like to eat._

_Please email me to tell me how many you're bringing, so we can wrangle chairs and drinks._

_Bilbo  
_

***

He got up early the next morning. After checking to make sure Frodo's room really was ready, he started cooking. Bella, Bungo, and Frodo arrived at about ten, and Bilbo set Bungo to keeping track of the cookies while he, Frodo, Sam, Hamfast, and Bella moved Frodo's things back into his room. 

Moving the boxes didn't take long with all the help, and inevitably, everyone ended up standing around the kitchen afterwards. Finally, frustrated with people being in his way, Bilbo sent his parents out to buy drinks and supplies, told Sam and Frodo to go start unpacking the boxes and suitcases, and, when they'd all disappeared, shook his head ruefully at Hamfast.

"You and Bell will come over at four, right?" 

Hamfast stopped sliding the kitchen door closed and stuck his face back through. "We wouldn't miss it for the world." He paused, then stepped back inside. "But what's this about Frodo's aunt and uncle getting arrested? Frodo told Sam, but Bell and I, well, it sounded awfully outrageous."

Bilbo stirred the pot of lentils and put the lid back on, turning the heat down. "No," he said. "Totally true. I had no idea, but what they did was kidnapping. Dain – did I tell you about the lawyer?" Ham shook his head, looking bemused. Bilbo grinned and continued. "He was Drogo's friend and co-worker. He's got the most amazing mustache, like two huge tusks. Anyway, he's coming today, you'll meet him. He's going through their finance stuff to see what they might have been after."

Hamfast shook his head. "Well, doesn't that just beat all. I'll have to tell Bell – she's been giving Sam an awful time about believing Frodo's crazy stories."

At 3:30, Bilbo took a quick shower, to wash off the morning's frantic cooking. When he came back into the living room, his mother was holding Deathless in her hand.

"Have you heard from Thorin?" Her voice was soft.

Bilbo sighed. "No, but I haven't emailed him about this." He rubbed his eyes. "I just … there's no point in forcing him into something he doesn't want to be in."

She ran her thumb over Deathless' long hair and smiled down at the Dwarf's perpetually disgruntled expression. "I just think that there's something else going on. I saw his face, how he looked at you, and I don't think that he was faking it." She set the carving down and came to hug Bilbo. "I think he's really in love with you."

Bilbo pulled away. "He's got a really crappy way of showing it, then." 

She laughed. "Well, that's certainly true. Have you asked him about any of it yet?" At his expression, she sighed. "Bilbo, you have to actually talk to him. Don't just jump to conclusions. It's a long wet swim back."

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, yes, mom, thanks, I know." He stuck his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. "I do know, really. I was just so upset with everything else that it was – " 

She patted his cheek. "I know, pet. But things are getting better now, so you can start concentrating on yourself a bit, right?"

Just then the doorbell rang and she laughed. "Saved by the bell."

Frodo and Sam stormed down the hall, shouting and, after a moment of loud hilarity at the door, they ran rapidly back up the hall, followed closely by Merry and Pippin. 

"Hey you hooligans," Bilbo shouted, "keep it down to a dull roar."

Suddenly the familiarity of it, the return to the happy and fufilling way his life had been before everything had gone so terribly wrong, hit him and he sobbed once, hard. 

Bella turned him around and pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him. "It's okay love. It'll all be okay."

 _No matter what else,_ he thought, _at least this is fixed._

He stayed in the warm comfort of his mother's embrace for a long moment, then stepped back and wiped his face. "Let's go get this party started!"


	58. Fifty Eight – Roll Out the Barrels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the party starts - parties are really nothing more than semi-organized happy chaos, right?

Bilbo paused in the hallway, listening to Pippin's voice. After a second, he turned and went into Frodo's room, shutting the door behind himself. The four boys looked up at him, faces showing a variety of expressions.

"Did they really get _arrested_?" Pippin asked, glowing with glee.

"They did," Bilbo said. "It was just as good to see as it sounds. However, there's something else – sort of related – that I wanted to say to you. I've invited Rory and Gilda."

"What?" Merry's voice was shocked.

"Why?" Frodo looked mutinous, and Bilbo knew he'd done the right thing having this conversation before Rory and Gilda actually arrived.

Bilbo crossed his arms and leaned back against the door. "Because _they're your family_ , and because they took you when they didn't have to. If they hadn't stepped in, you'd have spent all this time with Asphodel and Rufus and Milo." Bilbo paused, looking from Sam's face – filled with sudden comprehension – to Pippin's – filled with nothing more than confusion.

"Wait," Pippin said. "What's this all about? I mean, I get that Asphodel and her husband were arrested for kidnapping, but how can they have kidnapped Frodo when he was living with Rory and Gilda? Aren't they arrested, too?"

"Rory and Gilda didn't know what the will said. As soon as they found out, they wanted Frodo to move back here with me." Bilbo sighed. "Rufus and Asphodel _did_ know about the will, and that Frodo was supposed to stay here. _And_ that he was … is supposed to get all of his parents money and things."

"So they wanted his money," Sam said, and Pippin's face cleared. 

"Oh, well, if that's all…" 

"I still don't like them coming here," Frodo said. 

"The thing is, kiddo, they _are_ coming. You don't have to be best friends with them, but they've met you now and they love you, and that's just it. You can't pick your family, but it is very stupid to push away family who loves you. All I'm asking for from you is good manners – and maybe try to get to know them a bit, if you can tear yourself away from your computer." Bilbo stood back up and opened the door. "One last thing, try to leave room for the cake, okay?"

As he walked down the hall, he could hear their tight little whispers as they discussed what he'd said. 

The next half an hour was filled with people arriving – everyone bearing food and laughter. Nori and his wife, a tall woman with gold-blonde hair and the palest blue eyes Bilbo had ever seen, brought the youngest of their three children and a container of Sara's home-made Turkish Delight, which Bilbo promptly hid in a high cabinet as she laughed.

"Hey," he said, grinning up at her, "if I don’t hide it, Frodo will eat it all and I won't get any. I'm just protecting my interests." He held his arms out. "Hand that baby over, it's been too long since I've seen any of your little ones." He propped the little girl on his hip and smiled into her hazel eyes as she wrapped an arm around his neck. "Hey there, Ingrid. How're you?"

Sara sat at the kitchen table and pulled something bright green out of her bag. "So," she said, shaking the green thing; it was a sweater for her oldest child. "Nori says you've been having a hard time. Why didn't you call me?"

Bilbo handed her a cup of coffee and sank down into a chair. "Oh god, Sara, it's been so awful. I just – I thought things were doing great, you know? I'd met this guy – " He broke off at the doorbell. "I … you know what, I don't teach Wednesdays and Fridays and I'm in Berkeley often. Let's arrange a lunch date, okay?"

He stood, hitching Ingrid up, and hurried to the door, chattering to her about who might be ringing the bell and what they might like to do. 

"Uncle _Bilbo_!" Fili and Kili stood at the door, grinning at him. Behind them, Tauriel rolled her eyes.

"Oh, look at you," Kili said, stepping forward and peeking into Ingrid's face. "What a sweetie – what's your name?"

Bilbo stepped back, giving them room to come in. "Her name's Ingrid. She's Nori's daughter, actually, so she's Dori's niece."

Fili beamed at her, then looked up at Tauriel. "Watch out, he's gone broody again."

She laughed. "He'll have to figure out a way to make them himself, then. I'm not ready yet."

Kili flashed her a look filled with such amusement and love that Bilbo felt himself flush. "I'll wait," Kili said. "Now," he said, looking away from Ingrid, who was giggling at the faces he'd been making. "Bilbo, we brought some wine and some soda and um," He glanced at Fili, who nodded encouragingly. "And we stole some of the pate Thorin makes."

Bilbo smiled. "That sounds lovely. Bring it into the kitchen." He started to lead the way, but Kili held his arms out and Ingrid leaned over, reaching for him. With a laugh, Bilbo handed her over. In the kitchen, Kili and Tauriel fell into conversation with Sara and Hamfast and Bell, who'd come in the kitchen door while Bilbo had been at the front door.

The doorbell rang again and Bilbo trotted off. This time it was Rosie and her parents – Rosie hugged Bilbo enthusiastically, then disappeared down the hall to Frodo's room, while her parents dropped off several bottles of Lily's mother's cider in the kitchen. 

Soon, Kili and Ingrid had stationed themselves as permanent door-openers; Bilbo found himself in the living room, introducing Arwen to Sara, who immediately fell into a discussion about local politics, with Ori sitting near by interjecting every so often. Bofur was on the other side of the living room, laughing about something sports related with Fili, Tauriel, and Beorn. 

Bella and Bungo sat in the kitchen with Hamfast and Bell and Tolman and Lily – all of them laughing as they caught up on Hobbiton gossip. 

Nori and Bilbo sat in Bilbo's office with glasses of a mead that Beorn had brought; he'd said something about making it himself, with honey from his own bee-hives. 

They'd discussed the story outline Bilbo had sent and had started working out a time for Bilbo to go on a book signing tour when the teenagers thundered down the hall to the kitchen. Nori laughed at Bilbo's expression.

"Not used to the roaming herds of oliphants any more?" Nori peered at the bottom of his empty glass. "Come on, I'm out and I want to get to it before my brother's bottomless bucket of a boyfriend does."

"Who, Bofur? I thought you liked him?" Bilbo followed after, happy enough to get another glassful of the mead, and maybe start pulling out the food.

"Oh, he's great," Nori said, filling their glasses, then hiding the large bottle at the back of the fridge. "Only, he's dating my younger brother, so I'm keeping an eye on him." 

Bell laughed. "Oh, you sound like my eldest brother. He didn't think anyone was good enough." Beside her, Hamfast rolled his eyes. 

Merry, Pippin and the rest were sitting on the floor near the sliding glass door, talking loudly while they ate from a large bowl of microwave popcorn. Sam looked up at his mother's statement and caught Nori's eye. Bilbo smiled as he saw the two older brothers in complete agreement – no one _was_ good enough for their younger siblings.

The doorbell rang and Frodo scrambled up. "I'll get that. Are we having food soon?" He didn't see Bilbo nod as he finished pulling out the vinegar based cole slaw and set it on the table next to the cold ham and paprika chicken he'd cooked the night before. 

Frodo's voice changed, at the door, and Bilbo turned to listen. He could see Bella and, interestingly, Nori all perk up at the difference in tone. It was explained as Frodo led Gilda and Rory into the kitchen. They looked extremely tense; Gilda's eyes were red and she was gripping the handles of a paper bag so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

Sam coughed and Frodo uncrossed his arms. "I just want to say," he started, and then suddenly his shoulders dropped and Bilbo could see how unhappy he'd been. 

"I want to say," Frodo started again, this time looking directly at Gilda, "thank you. I know I wasn't a great kid to have, but you … I really would have hated being with Asphodel and Rufus and, well. Yeah, I just, I didn't get it when I was there, I didn't know. And – " He never had a chance to finish, because Gilda was hugging him so tightly Bilbo worried if Frodo could breathe.

Behind her, Rory said, "Don't say that." He paused and ran a hand over his face. "I mean, don't say that you weren't a great kid. You _are_ a great kid, you were never trouble to have, and we'd have you still, if you didn't have a better place to live. I mean – " He shrugged. "I mean, if you ever want to visit, or if you need anything we can do, just let us know. You're our little Prim's baby boy."

Bilbo did a horrified bit of quick math and realized that Prim was born only a little after Rory and Gilda's own children; to them, losing Prim was nearly the same as losing a child of their own. He saw his parents make the same connection, and Bungo bowed his head.

"Well," Bilbo said brightly, "you're always welcome here. Maybe we should have a big barbeque over the summer and invite everyone. Here, let's take that bag and set it …" He glanced inside and smiled. "You made your Shaker lemon pie. Maybe we _won't_ set this out." He wrapped the bag carefully around the pie and slid it onto the top shelf of the fridge. "Merry, Pippin, if any of this pie is missing, I'll know who to blame."

He turned back to Frodo's aunt and uncle. "Now, let's get you something to drink and introduce you around."

Half an hour later, all the food – except Gilda's pie – had been set out in various places, and just as Bilbo was about to fill his plate, the doorbell rang again. 

"I’m sorry we're late," Dain said, grinning past his mustache points, "but Thorin had made plans for us to pick up Gimli and Legolas on the way and then there was traffic."

Bilbo's heart stopped at Thorin's name, but then he saw, standing just behind Dain, a young man about Gimli's age, but with darker hair and dark brown eyes. He didn't have his father's magnificent facial hair, but he had nearly the same smile. 

"Ah," Bilbo said, his mouth still dry at the shock. "I – come in, but I don't see Gimli?" 

Just then Gimli, Legolas, and a very short dark-haired woman came around the corner and onto the front walk. Gimli and the woman were holding opposite ends of a cooler, while Legolas carried a large tray with plastic wrap around it. 

"Hey, Bilbo," Gimli called. "Are the terrors here? Because Legolas wanted to try running a short campaign in a different system with them. He's been doing some game design in his spare time – oh, hullo Pippin, good to see you. Here, lad, run to the car – it's the blue Mercedes – and grab the bags we've left there."

Bilbo stood out of the way, laughing. Sam took the woman's side of the cooler and he, Gimli, and Legolas walked into the house, already lost in discussion of whatever it was Legolas wanted his game to do.

Dain watched them all go, his arm around the woman. "This is my wife, Sitora. And our son, Thorin."

"Welcome to my home," Bilbo said. "I'm sorry, it's a bit of a mad-house right now, but everyone's friendly."

Sitora laughed. "Oh, I'm sure it'll be fun. And if anything gets truly out of hand, I know a lawyer."

Bilbo snorted, but he could see Thorin roll his eyes behind his parents' backs. 

In the kitchen, later, Dain cornered Bilbo. "I heard that the aunt and uncle are here, the ones who wouldn't let Rufus and his horrible wife take Frodo? Can you point them out? I need to talk to them."

"Sure, but what about?" Bilbo looked around the room, but Rory and Gilda had gone to somewhere else in the house. "They must be in the living room, come on."

They were. Gilda and Sara were sitting next to each other, comparing knitting notes with Ori, while Ingrid played Horsie on Rory's knee and he talked to Bofur. Everyone in the room looked up when Bilbo and Dain came in.

"Dain!" Fili came across the room, giving his cousin a huge hug. "Good to see you, did you bring – ah, there you are, Thorin. Come with me, we've got something we need your help with." The three – Kili, Fili, and Thorin – left the room and Dain shook his head after them. 

"That's trouble on the hop. I wonder what they're up to." He shrugged and turned back to Bilbo, who'd gathered Rory and Gilda and brought them over. "Is there a private-ish place we can do this?"

Bilbo led them to his office and went back to the kitchen. His mother had made him a plate and was sitting at the table alone when he came in, with it at her elbow covered by a napkin.

He groaned as he sat down. "Thanks mom."

They sat silently as he ate, then she said, "Is there any reason Fili and Kili dragged someone out the back door and up the hill?"

He blinked at her. "None that I know of, but I'm trying to learn to stay out of other people's business." 

She laughed. "Good luck with that, dear." When he finished, she slipped his plate into the last available slot in the dishwasher and set it to running. "I'm going to find that nice woman, Sara, and find out where she got that sweater pattern. Your father needs something to wear about the house and I loved those cables."

Bilbo sat in the empty kitchen and looked out the back window. _What are they doing up there?_

He went out side and looked up the hill. It was dark, but there was low cloud, so the city lights reflected back down. He could see flashes of light off of what looked like Fili's hair; but there were four people up there, not just three. 

With a shrug, Bilbo went back inside and rejoined his party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since you'll want to know, [here's](http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2008/04/shaker-lemon-pie/) the pie recipe. I've made it, it's fantastic. But really, _MEYER_ lemons, oh yes.


	59. Fifty Nine – Surprises All Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the party isn't quite what Bilbo expects, especially given how nicely the beginning of it was. At least he has good friends.

Bilbo scooped up some of the cookies that Bofur brought and wandered into the living room. _Looks like everyone's getting along._ His mother looked up at him and smiled, then turned back to Bell and Sara, gesturing broadly. Bilbo grinned and took a sip of wine. _They're still talking about knitting, I see._

"Bilbo," Dain called, from across the room. "Come here, I wanted to ask you something."

Bilbo moved through the room, smiling as he saw Ingrid hanging upside down by her heels on Bofur's back. She was completely absorbed in trying to solve a bent-wire puzzle and Bilbo could see Ori feeding Bofur cookies while Bofur's hands were wrapped tightly around Ingrid's ankles, supporting her.

"Yes, Dain? What's up?" 

Dain sat in the big chair Bilbo had begun to think of as 'Thorin's' chair; Sitora perched on the arm of it, her feet – out of shoes – tucked under Dain's thigh. Dain beamed up at Bilbo.

"Well, business first. Rory and Gilda said they didn't know and that you might – what happened to the boat?"

_Ah._ "It's being shipped back. Uh, when the Consular men came, I didn't know what was going on, so Th – so someone I knew had them ship it. By boat, I think, which … now that I think about it, sounds rather odd."

Dain shrugged. "It's not unheard of, especially in situations like this. When was it supposed to arrive back?"

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "I don't know. I didn't ask at the time – I was distracted – and then I sort of forgot about it in the whole mess with losing Frodo. That was New Years Day, though, so it should be back soon, right?"

Dain looked puzzled. "It should have been back ages ago, actually. I wonder … " He stared blankly at his knees for a minute, then looked back up at Bilbo. "What friend?"

"What?"

"The friend who told the men from the Consul to ship the Brandywine – who was it? Maybe they'll know something about shipping times."

Bilbo froze. _Oh. Oh god, Thorin didn't tell him we were together._ He coughed, then jumped as a deep voice came from just behind him.

"That was me, Dain, how are you?"

Bilbo swung around, feeling slightly light-headed. "Thorin?"

Thorin's eyes were very dark and he barely glanced at Bilbo. "Dain, if you have questions about the boat, I can answer them. The cargo ship will be arriving in the next two days and Frodo's parents' boat will be docked in Fortmann Basin." He shifted on his feet, tilting his chin slightly toward Bilbo.

Dain, who'd at first looked stunned, was now looking back and forth between Bilbo – who knew he hadn't been able to control his expression – and Thorin – who looked completely impassive. A broad smile filled Dain's face as he caught Thorin's eye, but it was wiped away by sudden comprehension. 

"Well," he said, "fancy the two of you knowing each other." He turned to his wife. "You remember my cousin."

"Of course, dear," she said, her voice very dry. "We only named our son after him." She shook her head. "Whatever you're plotting will have to wait until after Valentine's Day. You promised me a nice weekend away."

Thorin and Dain snorted at the same time and Bilbo felt a bubble of hilarity rising in his chest. 

"I'll just go get – " Bilbo started, but Sitora stood up and took his arm. 

"Let's leave them to their legal wrangling, shall we? I wanted to get the recipe for that amazing lemon pie from you." 

Bilbo stiffened. "I told those wretched children that if they ate that damned pie, I'd take it out of their hides!" He strode across the room and down the hall, pulling up short as he saw Nori at the kitchen table with a large slice of Gilda's lemon pie on a plate. 

Nori looked up, a guileless expression filling his face. "Oh, Bilbo, there you are. I was just bringing you a slice of this excellent pie."

Suddenly it was all too much and Bilbo started to shake. He clenched his teeth together on the scream of mixed fury and pain that wanted to escape and closed his eyes. When he thought he might be able to speak without shouting, he opened them again.

"Nori, you knew fucking well I was saving that pie. I know you're used to getting away with shit, but this is really not the time. I …" Bilbo pressed his lips together, hoping the hard knot in his chest would remain there and not rise to become tears. "Were you going to let me blame the kids for eating it?" 

Nori opened his mouth, but Bilbo held up a hand. "No, don't. Just … " He sighed. "Finish it, it's okay. It doesn't matter." He pushed the sliding glass door open and stepped into the back yard, sliding the door closed on the noise from the house. Without thinking about it too deeply, he scrambled up the side of the yard onto the hill behind the house, then up to the little dirt track partway up the hill. 

"At least I know who Fili and Kili were meeting up here," he said to the trees. He pushed through the first stand of trees, then stopped where he could see the sky. The clouds were bright over the Coliseum. _I wonder if there's a game on tonight._

He stood, leaning back against a tree, watching the planes as they floated through the air, dancing about at first, but always lining up and sliding down towards the airports like floating balls of light hooked onto a line. It wasn't until he felt a heavy coat with a fur collar wrap around his chest and arms that he realized he was shivering.

Thorin stood in front of him, hands hovering at his sides, looking like he didn't know if he wanted to stay or flee. _He looks tired. I wonder if he's been having trouble sleeping._ Then Bilbo realized what – or, rather, _who_ , must be keeping Thorin awake at night, and he shoved the jacket away.

"What do you want, Thorin?" He rubbed his face; now that he was aware of the cold, he almost wished he hadn't pushed off Thorin's coat. 

"I – " Thorin took a half-step closer, bending to pick up the jacket and hold it out. "Please, your lips are blue. Fili and Kili would never forgive me if I let you freeze to death."

Bilbo let Thorin wrap the jacket around his shoulders and held it closed himself from inside; the jacket was huge, so Bilbo's arms could stay inside the body of the coat. It smelled of Thorin; Bilbo breathed in deeply, hating himself for how much he just wanted to step forward and let Thorin hold him. 

"I'm sure they wouldn't blame you. I am entirely old enough to know to come in when I'm cold." Bilbo glanced at Thorin, who'd stayed close. He couldn't tell what Thorin was thinking. "I’m sorry for running away like that. I've been a terrible host – I'll go make sure no one needs anything."

"Don't go, please," Thorin said. "Your mother's keeping an eye on things, and – " He paused, mouth open and Bilbo thought he saw something pained flash in his eyes. 

"Thorin," Bilbo said, "you know, this would be easier if you just admitted you don't want to … ah, date me any more. I mean," he shrugged. "it's evident that Frodo and I are not what you expected, and that's okay." 

"That's not true, not at all," Thorin snapped, crossing his arms. Then he looked down at his feet. "I don't – I … it's not about you and Frodo."

Bilbo breathed in slowly. "Okay. I'm not sure what you mean by that, but okay. Whoever this is about, though, it's clear you aren't interested in being with me. I guess I should be glad you made it this obvious, but I do wish you'd been more up front with me about it before things went so far. I'll pay you back for the cost of shipping the boat home – "

Thorin's head snapped up and his hands dropped to his sides. "You will not. That was – and is – a gift, to you and to Frodo. I will not accept money from you, Bilbo. I … I can't. There's only one – " He pressed his lips together and shook his head. 

"Bilbo?" Ori's voice floated up to them through the trees. He shoved through the last of the lower set of trees and stopped in the little clearing. "Are you okay? Nori sent me out here with your coat, he said you'd come out in just your shirt and it's – oh, you're not alone. I'm sorry." His arms were wrapped tightly around a dark mass of fabric and his expression was a mixture of worried and fierce. 

Bilbo unwrapped Thorin's jacket and held it out. "Thank you for loaning me your coat, Thorin. It is time I went inside, though, and saw to my guests. I … I don't think there's anything of yours in my house, but if I find anything, I'll get it to you somehow."

Thorin lifted the jacket from Bilbo's hand and held it by the collar. "Don’t bother. Anything which stays here is lucky." He turned and walked away and, for one moment, Bilbo thought he saw Thorin wipe his face.

"I’m sorry to have interrupted," Ori said. 

"No, don't worry about it." Bilbo took his coat – it was the thick wool one Thorin had given him for Christmas – and pulled it on. "I should go apologize to your brother."

Ori smiled as they started back down the hill. "No, don't. He's ready to grovel, actually and that's good for him. Sara's really angry at him as well."

Bilbo winced and Ori patted his shoulder. "He'll survive, and from what he's said he did, he deserves everything he gets."

Bilbo chuckled. "It's just a pie."

Ori shrugged. "It's the spirit of the thing. He knew you didn't want it put out and he deliberately stole it. I know he's your agent and editor and all that, but that doesn't mean he gets to steal your food."

Inside the house, Bilbo was met by Nori, who looked deeply repentant. Sara and Bell were standing behind Nori, and Bilbo caught a glimpse of his mother just past the kitchen door. After Ori slid the door closed, Nori stood up.

"I'm sorry, Bilbo. I really am. I shouldn't have taken the pie out." Behind him, Sara cleared her throat, and Nori grimaced. "And I'm going to make you one to replace it."

Bilbo blinked at him, then at Bell. "You're going to make a Shaker lemon pie? Do you even know how to bake?"

Nori shrugged. "I've edited several cook books. How hard can it be?"

The kitchen filled with laughter as first Bella, and then everyone else in the kitchen started laughing. Even Nori, after a heroic attempt to still look guilty, joined in.

Bilbo exchanged the jacket for a sweater; he spent the rest of the party sitting on the couch. Ori and Beorn kept him supplied with wine and snacks, and much later that night, as the party began to wind down, Bella and Bungo saw people to the door. Dain said that he'd send an email with information about how the case was going against Frodo's aunt and uncle, and then – to Bilbo's surprise – pulled him up and into a big hug. 

"You'll do just fine," he said. "Don't you worry about it. He'll come around. He's always been a bit wooden-headed about things."

Finally, the only people left were Sam and Rosie – both of whom were staying for the rest of the weekend, and Ori and Bofur. Bilbo struggled to his feet, but Ori waved him off. 

"I know where the sheets are for the pull-out bed. You're exhausted, Bilbo. Go to bed." Ori sounded tired himself; he was leaning on Bofur, who, in turn, leaned on the wall. 

Bilbo smiled. "All right. See you in the morning."

On Tuesday, Bilbo got an email from Fortman Marina welcoming him to their marina and letting him know he could come and collect his ID card for the electronic gate whenever was convenient for him. Bilbo looked them up on google maps, then checked their website for more information. 

He hovered his mouse over the Rates page; the memory of Thorin's face when Bilbo had offered to repay him flashed past his eyes and he closed the page instead. 

On Wednesday, Bilbo stopped into the Marina offices on the way to Lorien. The staff was friendly and curious, but Bilbo said that he didn't have time just now to look at the berth – or the boat – and would come back when he wasn't late for work. He got two of the electronic key cards and left, carefully not looking in the direction of the boats. 

In his office at Lorien, he found himself staring at the computer screen instead of able to concentrate on writing up the results of his latest work there. Finally, he sighed, closed the computer and went to the cafeteria.

He brought a cup of coffee and several danishes to a small table at the side of the large room. Pulling out a pad of paper, he started making notes about the story he was working on. 

"Bilbo, how nice to see you!" Arwen slid into the seat opposite him, her bright eyes sparkling with pleasure, two cups in her hands. "You haven't stopped by the stockroom recently."

He blinked at her, startled. "I've been a bit busy."

She smiled. "Yes, I've heard." At his questioning look, she wrinkled her nose. "Ori. He's worried about you. Beorn's concerned as well."

Bilbo leaned back, taking a drink of his now-cold coffee. "I think it'll be okay now. I've got Frodo back and things are startling to settle down again. I hope."

She handed him one of the cups she'd brought, pulling his cold one away. "Here, I brought you a fresh cup. You've been sitting here an hour."

"I have? Oh, dammit, I meant to just take a short break. I'd better get back to my office and get working."

She laid a hand on his arm. "No, finish your coffee and let me have some of that strawberry danish. Aragorn and I went camping last week up in the Sierras and I wanted to tell you about it."

He sat back and listened to her ramble about what she and Aragorn had seen, and somehow, without knowing exactly when, he felt his shoulders relax and his breathing clear.


	60. Sixty - Working our Way to Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo has big plans for his Valentine's Day, and while he's out, Bilbo goes to look at the Brandywine. He meets someone there who might be a new friend, then has two surprising deliveries on Valentine's Day morning.

Sixty – Bitter Romance

Bilbo tucked the phone further under his chin and grinned into the pan on the stove in front of him. "No, no, that sounds good. Directly after? Sure, and when back?" He turned and peeked into the hall, where Frodo stood, arms across his waist, each hand tightly gripping the opposite elbow. His face was a study of hope and anxiety. 

"Sunday night? The whole weekend?" Bilbo raised his eyebrows at Frodo who immediately looked pleading. Bilbo snorted. "Yes, that sounds great. I'll send along money to help defray – no, I insist. I know, but it's not a problem at all. Are you sure you guys won't mind giving up your time this way?"

After a few more short exchanges, Bilbo hung up the phone.

"So, uh," Frodo said, and Bilbo started laughing.

"Rosie's parents will pick the three of you up on Friday after school and you'll have all weekend in San Francisco." 

"Woo HOO!" Frodo shouted, throwing his arms up in the air, and then pouncing on Bilbo and giving him a huge hug. "Thanks, Uncle Bilbo."

Bilbo laughed, hugging him back. "You're welcome, kiddo. Have a good Valentine's Day."

"I’m going to tell Sam," Frodo said, dashing out the kitchen door and across the back yard.

Bilbo smiled after him, then went back to working on dinner. As he stirred the onions, he realized that he hadn't ever talked to Frodo about sex. _Well, crap. This won't be awkward at all._ He turned the burgers in the pan and wondered what sort of sex education Sam and Rosie had had. _Maybe I'll just give him some condoms and a bottle of lube? No, that's even worse._

Over dinner, Bilbo mentally braced himself and said, "So, Frodo, not that I'm actually asking about what you three … uh, get up to, but will you need condoms?"

Frodo stared at him, his face suddenly very red. "I – maybe? I haven't really, um, I haven't been to the store and Sam usually – "

Bilbo nodded. "Well, there isn't time to order them online and have them arrive before tomorrow, but maybe we should do so, for the future. For the, ah, immediate need, maybe we should go shopping this evening. Do you have anything to give them for Valentine's Day?"

Frodo looked a little stiff. "I … no, I didn't know what to do and I thought I'd be up in Hobbiton, so there'd be no point."

Bilbo leaned back. "Well, finish up and let's go shopping!"

The next morning, Bilbo hugged Frodo and reminded him to say thank you to Rosie's parents.

"Thanks, Bilbo," Frodo said. "I'll see you on Sunday."

Bilbo was at the gate to the marina later that morning. Walking on the dock wasn't what he expected – it shifted under his feet as he walked and he realized that it was floating. Once he realized that, he felt like an idiot; of course the dock was floating, otherwise how would the boats be able to float next to it. He wasn't the only person walking to or from the boats, but the others looked like they were getting their boats ready for the weekend. A couple of people nodded to him in a friendly manner, but he didn't pause. 

The Brandywine was at the far end of the dock he was on. It wasn't the only boat without a mast, but the fact that it used to have a mast showed, and the closer he got, the more the damage became clear.

He remembered seeing it when Drogo and Prim had bought her. It had been spanking white with a clean dark blue bottom. Now its white paint was ragged and it looked somehow lonely. 

Parts of its sides were scraped and banged up; not only the mast was missing, but the little tent contraption that sat above the entrance to the inside of the boat was gone as well. The sides of the boat – what Bilbo thought of as the railings, but which he was sure had a different name – were snapped. The place where the mast had hit as it came off was obvious: the railings were gone and the actual wooden side of the boat was smashed up.

After a moment spent just looking at it, Bilbo stepped carefully onto the deck and, ignoring the scrapes and scuff marks, walked to the stairs. The marina staff had put a temporary lock box on the door and given him the code with the electronic key cards. He pressed his lips together, tapped the five digits, then tugged on the little door to get the actual key.

Inside, the boat was a disaster. It was clear that someone had tried to clean it up – it was dry and there was only a lingering smell of mold – but nothing was where it should be. 

Bilbo carefully worked his way down the stairs; something large had slammed into them and broken part of the risers. The cabinet doors in the galley to his left were either torn off completely or dangling, and the drawers, once so neat and tidy, were entirely gone. He ran a hand along the edge of the counter, gritted his teeth and turned to look into the bedroom. 

Whoever had cleaned up had removed the mattress, but the mildewy smell was stronger back here. There were boxes piled up along the floor and in the space where the mattress went. Bilbo sighed and turned away. _I'll deal with those later._

The rest of the boat's interior was similarly damaged. He was grateful to whoever the Consul had gotten to clean up, as the dented walls and broken pieces of what had been decorative woodwork were hard enough to look at.  
"Oh Prim," Bilbo whispered, looking at the destroyed wood of the central sitting area. He sank down into the the seat, then stood straight again at the dank odor that rose from the filthy cushion. 

After a moment with his eyes closed, Bilbo started moving the boxes out of the bedroom and up the stairs. When he'd gotten them all out of the boat, he started shifting them to the dock. _I wonder if they’ve a trolley at the office._

He glanced around, but no one seemed interested in him or his pathetic pile of boxes, so he walked to the office, where they were happy to offer him the use of their hand truck. When he got back to his pile of boxes, a man he'd never seen was looking at the Brandywine.

"Can I help you?" Bilbo asked, standing the hand truck up next to the boxes.

The man looked around. He could have been anywhere from his forties to his sixties and was wearing comfortable old jeans and a sweatshirt reading Gondolin: Battling the Big Threats. His long golden hair was tied up in a loose bun on the back of his head and his blue eyes were bright in the early afternoon sun. 

"Is she yours?" His voice was warm and friendly.

"No. I mean, yes, it is now. My cousins owned it but – " Bilbo's throat suddenly closed.

"Ah, the damage." The man looked at Bilbo for a second, then stuck out his hand. "Glorfindel Gondolin. Are you moving the boxes?"

"What? Oh." Bilbo looked at the boxes and sighed. "I've got to bring them home and then we – my nephew and I – can go through them. I don't know what's in them."

Glorfindel smiled. "Let me help." He started stacking boxes on the hand truck, then gestured to Bilbo to lead the way. "You look a bit overwhelmed."

"I am." Bilbo guided the hand truck up the ramp to the gate, which Glorfindel opened for him. "I don't know what to do with any of this, really. Or if any of it's salvageable." At Bilbo's car, they moved the boxes to the trunk and then started back to the boat for the rest.

"Well, the boat's probably salvageable, unless something really dire's gone on underneath or in the engine. Have you had a look?" At Bilbo's blank look, Glorfindel chuckled. "I could help with that, if you like. Have you had anyone in to look at the mast?"

Bilbo stopped halfway back to the car. "Not that I don't appreciate your offers, but who are you?"

Glorfindel started to laugh. "I own a couple of boats, and I've a soft spot for the Swans. They're well made and she's a pretty thing. She must have sailed a right treat, when she wasn't so injured." He nodded toward the gate, where people were coming down the ramp. "Let's get those boxes into your car and I'll give you my number. I can at least tell you what you should be looking for."

At the car, Bilbo said, "Thank you very much, honestly, but I don’t know if we're going to want to keep it." He looked at Glorfindel's card – the logo was a yellow sun with eight plain rays sticking out from it. 

"She's worth a lot of money, even with the damage, and it would be a shame to just dump her." Glorfindel tapped the roof of Bilbo's car with his fingertips. "Call me or email and let's talk. At the very least, I can let you know who to talk to about getting any repairs done."

Bilbo nodded, then rubbed the back of his head. "I'm sorry. I never gave you my name. I’m Bilbo Baggins. Thank you very much."

In the office, the clerk grinned at him and said, "I see you've met Glory."

"What?" Bilbo dusted his hands off. "Do you have a place I could wash my hands?"

"Sure," she said, pointing to a door in the corner. "In there. Glory's the blond. He knows everything there is to know about boats."

After his hands were clean, Bilbo asked, "So, what does Glorfindel do? Does he work on boats or something?"

She blinked up at him. "Do? I don't know. He comes here most weekends and I know he races."

"His company does something with cancer research." Bilbo and the clerk both turned around. An older woman had come from the back office and was getting a cup of coffee from the machine. "If he's offered to help you with your boat – you're the one with the storm damaged Swan, right? Anyway, if he's offered help, take it. There isn't much he doesn't know about boats."

"Huh." Bilbo stared out the window at the flash of gold hair on one of the far boats. "Thanks."

Once home, Bilbo unloaded the boxes into the garage, then wiped out the place where they'd been in the car. The smell of mold had filled the car on the drive home and he knew enough about fungi to not let it settle in.

He spent some time cleaning up the house – he was behind on laundry again, and there was always something which needed dusting or washing, but then everything was done and he ended up in the living room, sitting in his chair, holding Deathless and staring blankly at the wall. 

_What the hell did he mean by breaking up with me not being about me or Frodo? How can it be about anything else?_ Bilbo looked down at the wooden dwarf, who was glaring at the couch, and smiled. "Well," he said out loud, "at least I'll stop being followed about by strangers, eh?"

With a burst of energy – it wasn't even dark yet – he picked up a book Nori had given him and went out. Indian food sounded good, and he could eat the leftovers tomorrow.

Over dinner, he started reading the book and found it unexpectedly gripping. It was a fictionalized history of Eastern Europe near the end of the Roman Empire. Bilbo kept thinking about it as he packed the leftovers at the table, kept thinking about it on the drive home, then made himself a pot of tea and dove back into it as soon as he got there. 

He got too tired to read around midnight and closed the book, shaking his head as he set it down. Deathless was eyeing the book darkly. 

"I don't know what you're so suspicious of. It's just a book." Bilbo ran a finger over the dwarf's hair. "I admit – " He broke off to yawn. "The author's name's a bit odd. Smaug. I wonder if he prounounces it like the air pollution or like it rhymes with ouch. Either way, I'm for bed."

The next morning, Bilbo was reading the last of the book over a late breakfast, when the doorbell rang. 

"Delivery for Mr Professor Baggins?" A young woman stood at the door, holding a large white box.

"Thanks, but I didn't order anything?" Bilbo took the clipboard the woman shoved at him and blinked at the form.

"Oh, no, this is flowers. Probably." She shrugged and pointed. "Sign there, please." 

Bilbo signed, took the box, and went inside. "Flowers. That's …" He felt his heart squeeze at the thought that maybe Thorin had sent them. Maybe he'd changed his mind.

Bilbo opened the box carefully and pulled out a giant bouquet of mixed flowers. There were hydrangea and orchids, mixed in with sprays of fluffy green fern leaves and roses in several different colors. The vase was a deep cobalt blue with a gold dragon curving up the side and wrapped around the mouth of the vase so that one wing was draped down the length of the vase and the other extended the lip. The dragon's face was propped near the lip of the vase; Bilbo could see its little nose peeking through the foliage of the bouquet.

"Where's the card?" He checked the box, then carefully picked through the bouquet, but didn't find anything to say who the flowers were from.

Finally, he called the phone number of the delivery service which had been stamped on the outside of the box. They said the delivery had been called in the week before, and the vase had been sent specifically for this delivery – it wasn't the one the bouquet normally came in. However, they couldn't tell him the name of the person who'd ordered the delivery.

Just as he was trying to figure out if there was a hidden message in the flowers themselves, the doorbell rang again.

"Flowers for Bilbo Baggins?" This time, the delivery person was a middle-aged man. He looked Bilbo up and down, then handed him the bouquet in one box and a second box, which was very heavy. 

"What? Who are these from?" 

The man checked his notes. "A Mr Durin, says here. You're Baggins, right?" At Bilbo's nod, the man continued. "Then there you go. Oh, can you sign –" He flipped the page over and took back the heavy box so Bilbo could sign for the delivery. "Thanks! Have a nice day."

In the kitchen, Bilbo set the flowers down and opened the heavy box. It was a cut crystal vase, heavy bottomed and antique looking. There was a packet of flower extender in the box, so he added it to water in the vase and carefully slipped the bouquet in.

After careful examination of the flowers, he felt tears burn at the back of his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin "borrowed" one of the flower books. He's not being particularly fair with this.
> 
> Thorin's Valentine's Bouquet  
> * Garden Anemone: Forsaken  
> * Bay Leaf: I change but in death  
> * Convolvulus (commonly called Morning Glory): Extinguished hopes  
> * Everlasting: Never-ceasing remembrance  
> * Ivy: Friendship, Fidelity, Marriage  
> * Love Lies Bleeding (Amaranthus): Hopeless, not heartless  
> * Marigold: Despair, Grief  
> * Mourning Bride: Unfortunate attachment, I have lost all  
> * Red Rose: love
> 
> What a thing for him to send!
> 
> The mystery bouquet doesn't say anything at all - it's just a [commercial bouquet](http://www.newyorkbestflorist.com/brooklyn-flowers/your-majesty-372745p.asp?rcid=searchresult&point=1). An excessively expensive bouquet, really. The vase, however, is [this one](https://www.1stdibs.com/furniture/decorative-objects/vases-vessels/vases/amphora-dragon-vase-1900-austria/id-f_1160958/?product=f1160958&gclid=CjwKEAiAkvmzBRDQpozmt-uluCQSJACvCd1lS8cxUrCD0lRIhabD2c9Iox0N9gODjbHpOpynwEX_3BoC-7Tw_wcB) I'm pretty sure Bilbo will not be pleased, honestly.


	61. Sixty One - Unexpected Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finally starts to figure out what he's really feeling.

Bilbo spent Sunday trying to ignore the two bouquets – each for a different reason. The anonymous one made him uncomfortable; he worried that it might come from Azog. He remembered Sam saying that it's easy to get someone's address online and he wasn't foolish enough to think that his information was somehow more private than any other. 

He couldn't even look at Thorin's bouquet. Every time he caught a glimpse of it, he flinched. At first it had been in his bedroom but he found himself trotting down the hall several times in the next hour, just to confirm that it really existed. Then he'd put it on the kitchen table but somehow that made it feel as if it were expanding to fill the room. Finally, he set it in the living room window. The late afternoon light struck the flowers, making some of them glow and turning others translucent, like tiny dying stained glass windows. 

He went in early on Monday and brought the anonymous bouquet to the Chemistry department office. Esmerelda loved them and exclaimed over the vase. 

"It's an Amphora, isn't it?" Gandalf leaned out of his office and nodded to Bilbo, who shrugged. 

"I thought amphorae had little handles on the sides and were pointy at the bottom," Bilbo said, drawing the shape he meant in the air with his hands.

Gandalf smiled at him. "Around the end of the last century – ah." He laughed. "No, at the end of the last century but one, there was an eastern European commercial pottery called Amphora. They made quite a few things, but this line of vases was very popular and many remain."

Bilbo's eyes narrowed as he looked at the vase again, remembering that the delivery company had said the vase wasn't the usual one for that bouquet. "So, you're saying this is an antique vase?" He ran a hand over his face. "Yes, I mean, I get it, it's over a hundred years old, it's antique."

"It's a lovely example of the series, if it's authentic," Gandalf said, turning it gently from side to side. "The little dragon's quite fetching. Where'd you get it?"

Bilbo clenched his jaw. "It was delivered, with that bouquet, on Saturday."

Esmerelda smiled up at him. "Your young man?"

Bilbo felt his lips twist. "No, actually. This one was anonymous. No card, no information, nothing. I even called the company which did the delivery. They did admit that the vase wasn't the standard one, but they didn't tell me who sent it."

The three of them stood regarding the vase. Then Gandalf said, "We'll keep the bouquet here, but I think it's probably wise for you to have the vase go home with you when you leave today."

Bilbo nodded. "Sounds good. You don't mind guarding it, Esme?"

She grinned at him. "A chance to spend the day with a beautiful bouquet and a lovely antique dragon? No, not at all."

In the gap between his lecture and lab, Bilbo looked up Amphora vases and, when he saw the exact one he'd been sent – and the price it had last sold for – he gasped. _Twenty one thousand dollars, what the hell?_

He spent the lab sitting in the corner of the room watching his students set up the experiment they'd be working on for the next two weeks and wondering who the hell would send him a vase which cost more than a new car. _Well, this means it's pretty unlikely to be Azog. I'm pretty sure he doesn't dislike Thorin enough to spend this kind of money on it._

That afternoon, when he went to pick up the vase, he found that Esme had done a similar online search. She was extremely careful as she handed the vase to him and shook her head as he took it. 

"Whoever gave you that," she said, "must really like you."

 _Or not._ "It's certainly expensive," Bilbo said. 

Gandalf stuck his head out of his office again. "Ah there you are, Bilbo my lad. Now, can you come in for a moment or two? I've a couple of quick questions and since you're here…"

As Bilbo sat down, still carefully cradling the vase, Gandalf pulled the door mostly closed, then sat in his own chair. "First, I wanted to ask you to remind me of the date for Lobelia's wedding. I'm sure you said, but I'm filling in my schedule and I can't quite remember."

Bilbo smiled. "I've got the invitation at home – can I email you?" 

Gandalf nodded, smiling back at him. "Secondly, you mentioned, quite a while ago now, that you made the acquaintance of a Dr Balin Jarnnave? We're working on Spring quarter and I wondered if you could put me in touch with him. We've an opening for a graduate course in synthetic chemistry and I think he'd be an excellent instructor."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "Surely you can contact him yourself."

"Yes, but I thought the opportunity to teach here would be more attractive if you presented it to him. As a friend of the family, you know." Gandalf leaned back in his chair.

Bilbo felt his shoulders sink. "I'm not."

Gandalf raised his brows and tilted his head. "Not what? Attractive?"

Bilbo pressed his lips together. "I'm not a friend of his family, Gandalf. Thorin and I are … we've stopped seeing each other."

"That's no reason for the rest of the family to be standoffish," Gandalf said. "I'm sure Dr Jarnnave will be delighted to hear from you. Invite him to visit the campus!"

Bilbo sighed. "There's nothing I can say which will change your mind, is there?"

Gandalf beamed at him. "I'd avoid having him visit during finals week."

On the way home, Bilbo stopped off at the take-and-bake pizza place and got two large pizzas, one meat and veggie and one chicken and garlic. At home, he carefully put the vase in the glass-fronted china cabinet his grandparents had given him when he bought the house and had Frodo get the pizzas from the car.

Tuesday evening, Bilbo was sitting in the living room, half reading and half staring at Thorin's bouquet when his phone rang. The name on the screen was Fili Durin.

"Fili," Bilbo said. "How are you?"

They chatted for a few minutes, Bilbo growing increasingly tense as he waited for Fili to get to the point. Finally, he couldn't stand waiting anymore.

"It's great to catch up with you, Fili. Just, I know you're calling to apologize for Thorin, and honestly, it's not worth it."

There was a short silence, then Fili said, "Um. I'm not. Why, what's he done this time?"

Bilbo looked at the flowers on the window sill. "He sent me a bouquet for Valentine's Day. It was very clear, but he can't keep blowing hot and cold like this. It isn't kind or fair at all."

"Blowing hot and cold?"

"He can't refuse to talk to me in person and then send a bouquet which says what this one does and think that I'm going to just, I don't know." Bilbo waved his arm. "Sit and wait for him to figure himself out."

Fili was silent again; then he said, slowly, "What do you mean by 'says what this one does'?"

"Oh for …" Bilbo closed his eyes. "I forgot. So, there's a language of flowers, okay? And I grew up speaking it – well, reading it, really. And I told your uncle about it and he must have taken one of the books I have about it, because he sent me a bouquet that basically says that he's entirely broken hearted and forsaken and that he'll love me forever."

Fili muttered something under his breath, but all Bilbo could hear was, "… not wrong, but …" Then he said, in his normal tones, "Yeah, that's a bit much." He paused. "But wait, I skipped the really important thing. There's a secret flower code? Cool. Has it ever been used, like, for spying?"

Bilbo laughed. "I don't think so, but you never know." 

"Anyway," Fili said, "I'm sorry about Uncle, he can be a bit difficult. I will say, though, that he's usually most difficult about the things which really matter to him, so you can take from that what you will. However, I wasn't calling about that. Kili and I are going to be performing at a place in Berkeley and we wanted you to come."

Bilbo sat back. "Performing? Without the rest of the band?"

"Oh, we both learned the violin. Kili plays viola in the band, but we also play celtic stuff and some other fiddle music. Kili's on me to learn Zydeco and Klezmer, and if – well, it looks like I'll have some time to work on it." He huffed a laugh. "Anyway, we'd love for you to be there. Frodo and his pack of mischief can't come – it's over 21 – sorry."

Bilbo felt a rush of warmth. "I'd love to, that sounds fun. When is it?"

"It's next week, and it's at La Pena, in Berkeley. I'll email you the address. We go on at eight, but you should be there early. Oh, uh." He sounded suddenly embarrassed. "It's a fundraising thing, Kili and I are paying for your ticket, but they might pass the hat. Don't worry about – "

"No worries, and I'll pay for the ticket. I'm sure it's a worthy cause."

"Fresh water stuff in Central America, yeah."

They chatted for a few more minutes, then hung up. Bilbo put the phone down carefully and smiled. _Well, I guess I've made some good friends out of this, even if it didn't work out the way I expected._

He looked at the flowers again and sighed. 

On Wednesday, he spent all day at Lorien, working through some of the processes, keeping track of each incremental change. He'd volunteered to be on the documentation team as well as working directly with the enzymatic group. He found it secretly amusing to be using his writing skills in such a different way from his fiction writing. 

He ended up staying later than he intended while and driving home in the dark, he concentrated on the lights of the other cars, trying not to be distracted either by the work he'd been doing or by the persistent thoughts of Thorin and the damned flowers.

He pulled up outside the house and looked at the living room window. Frodo was still up and the light from his room lit up the living room dimly, backlighting the flowers. Inside the house, Bilbo didn't turn on any lights, but walked to the living room and stared at the flowers again. Then he brought them to the kitchen and set the vase and flowers on the kitchen table.

Suddenly, he realized he was absolutely furious. "You know what," he said out loud. "You don't get to do this to me. If all you're going to do is yank my chain, you can screw yourself." He brought the vase into the back yard and dumped the flowers into the green bin. He rinsed the vase in the kitchen sink and left it to dry.

On Friday, he went into San Francisco to meet with Nori. The publication date for the third Horse Lords book was coming up and Nori wanted to work out the publicity schedule with him. Bilbo wanted to talk about the additional books in the series as well as the next book he was working on, so they could get the next few years squared away, as it were.

Nori had lunch brought in and they sat at a table in Nori's office, with two calendars, Bilbo's laptop, an ARC of the third book, and pasta from one of the restaurants Nori liked. 

"So, if you're willing to do any sort of signing tour, I think we can set that up for the summer." Nori shoved his plate to the side and pulled one of the calendars closer. "I should … no, wrong one." He grabbed the other calendar and flipped through pages. "There's the mystery thing on the fourth, and then Smaug wants to have the whole of June, so that leaves – "

"Smaug? Is that how he says it? And, he's one of yours?" Bilbo used his bread to wipe up the last of the braised lamb sauce from his plate. "This is great – where'd it come from?"

Nori didn't look up. "Ask Gina, outside. I can't remember if this week is Barbacco or A16." He wrote something down on a post it. "Why are you asking about Smaug?"

"I read something of his the other day, it was really good." Bilbo pushed his own plate aside and leaned in to look at the schedule. "So, I'm in July?"

At that, Nori did look up. "Which one did you read?"

"What? Oh, Ostrogoths and the Gepid Kingdom?" 

Nori nodded. "That was a good one, true. That's old though, he's been working his way forward in time." He looked thoughtful for a minute. "I can give you copies of the rest, if you want."

"I'd like that. I was impressed – I know it's fictionalized, but he seems to be working from primary sources. Do you know where he does his research?" Bilbo realized that Nori was still staring at him. "What?"

"Nothing. I …" Nori shrugged. "I can't put my finger on it, but there's something tickling the back of my brain. I can introduce you, if you want."

"To the back of your brain? No, thanks, but that's all Sara's. You're adorable and all, but you're very much not my type," Bilbo smirked. 

Nori snorted. "No, I can introduce you to Smaug. He's coming in late this afternoon and I'm sure he'd love to meet you."

Bilbo sat back. "Really? I – sure."

After they worked out a potential signing tour schedule, Bilbo closed his laptop and grinned at Nori. "So, how's learning to bake coming?"

Nori rolled his eyes. "Sara's totally vicious. She won't let me use a crust from the store."

Bilbo laughed. "Serves you right, thief."

Smaug's appointment wasn't for a couple of hours, so Bilbo got a cup of coffee and a muffin from a coffee shop downstairs and brought them to one of the small conference rooms. He spent the time grading lab reports and had nearly reached the end of the first stack when the door opened. 

Without looking up, he held up a finger and said, "Wait just one moment, I've got to … there, done. Okay, Nori, what?"

It wasn't Nori at the door. It was a tall, elegant man with dark brown hair and pale eyes, wearing a black suit and red tie. "Finally, we meet," he said, stepping forward and holding out his hand. "My name is Smaug and I've wanted to meet you for quite some time now."

Bilbo stood to shake his hand and was amazed at how warm Smaug's hands were as they closed around his.


	62. Sixty Two - What an Odd Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's made a new friend, and he and Frodo go through the boxes from the Brandywine. Bella might be able to help with things they find, though.

Bilbo blinked as Smaug bent over his hand, maintaining eye contact. Before he stood, Bilbo caught a glimpse of Nori down the hall; his arms were crossed and his face was a study in deep concentration. 

As Smaug stood, Bilbo pulled his hand back, tucking it safely in his pants pocket. 

"I – thank you." Bilbo said. "That's very flattering." He stepped backward slightly; Smaug was much taller than he and it felt awkward to be bending his head so far. 

Smaug smiled again. "Oh, but your work is amazing and well worth following." He inclined his head. "I have enjoyed every second I've spent with you –" At Bilbo's startled expression, Smaug laughed. "By proxy through your writing, of course"

Bilbo huffed a laugh. "I'm afraid I've only read one of your books, but Nori's promised me more of them and I'm looking forward to reading them. The one I read was exceptionally balanced between research and story telling. I'm very impressed."

Smaug looked pleased. "That is a great compliment, from you." He glanced at the pile of papers Bilbo had been working on. "Would you allow me to take you to dinner? It would be interesting to compare notes upon writing and other things."

 _'Allow me to take you to dinner?' Who talks like that?_ "Ah, I'm very sorry, but I can't tonight. I've got to get home, I've someone waiting for me." Bilbo stacked his papers and put them back into his bag. "I would like to talk to you about your writing and research, though. I'll give you my email address and we can find a time that works?"

Smaug pulled a gold card case from his inside pocket and handed Bilbo a card. "This has all of my contact information on it." The paper of the card was thick and creamy; Smaug's information filled the card, and a small red line drawing of a dragon curved around the bottom right corner.

"Thanks," Bilbo said, handing him one of his own cards – much plainer, and with the university's logo on it – in return. "I'll email you in the next day or so with times I'm available." 

Smaug tucked Bilbo's card into his own case and gave a half-bow. "I await your email with pleasure."

In the car on the way home, Bilbo found himself rolling his eyes. "I await your email with pleasure – when does he think this is, 1870?"

Once home, Bilbo dropped his bags in his office and started cooking dinner. He heard sounds of hilarity coming down the hall and pushed on Frodo's half-open door. Sam sat on Frodo's bed, leaning against the wall, Rosie between his legs, her back against his chest. Frodo sat at his computer, tapping at the keyboard. Merry and Pippin were draped across each other on the floor.

They all grinned up at him as he leaned in. "Hi Uncle Bilbo," they chorused, and he laughed.

He shook his head, feeling warmer than he had in months, "I guess I'm making spagbol, so there's enough."

Pippin looked up at him, eyes very serious. "There will never be enough food to feed all of us." He nodded, solemnly. "Sam here can eat his body weight in a day, and that's nothing compared to what I've seen Merry eat."

Bilbo snorted. "If you guys are still hungry after dinner, you can get out one of the boxes of cake mix."

Frodo perked up. "Do you have the spice cake mix and the –" He glanced at his friends, then back to Bilbo, grinning. "The … you know."

Bilbo grinned back. "Yup. Have fun making cake. Dinner'll be ready in about half an hour."

After dinner, Bilbo went to the living room and sat down to read. He heard Merry and Pippin filling the dishwasher, and then started to snicker as they exclaimed, "Oh god, why are you putting _tomato soup_ in the cake? That's disgusting!"

Frodo poked his head around the living room door. "Hey, Bilbo, do you still have the extra cream cheese frosting in the freezer?"

Bilbo nodded, still chuckling. "I think it's been pushed to the back, but it's there. Think they'll eat it?"

Frodo shrugged. "It's them – they'll eat anything."

The only reason Bilbo got a piece of the cake was because Rosie brought him one, saying she thought he might like to taste the potential for disaster.

***

The next evening, after Merry and Pippin had been collected by their parents – all of whom expressed their pleasure that Frodo was 'back where he belonged' – Bilbo brought Frodo into the kitchen and made coffee for them both to go with a plate of macadamia and white chocolate chip cookies.

"So," he said, turning his cup in a circle. "Your – the Brandywine is back, at a dock in Alameda." 

Frodo's face fell and he took a gulp of coffee. "Okay."

"I went to see it. Its … well, it's hard to say how bad the damage is. I don't know enough about boats." The man with the brilliant blond hair and friendly eyes flashed through his memory. "I might know someone who could help us with that, if you want. He knows a lot about boats, especially this kind."

Frodo didn't say anything, just tapped his fingers on his mug. After a long moment, he said, "Fine."

Bilbo felt like the room was shrinking slightly under Frodo's determined resistance, but he pushed forward. "I brought home the things which were salvaged. They're in the garage. I can't go through them myself." He watched Frodo, who silently mouthed 'why not?'. "I miss them too, you know."

Frodo finished his coffee and pushed the mug away. "Do we have to do it right now?"

"No, but we probably shouldn't put it off forever. We can spread it out, if you want. Do a couple of boxes at a time? There aren't that many, really."

Frodo heaved a sigh, ran his hands over his face, then let his head fall backward to stare up at the ceiling. " _Fine._ Let's look. It's all shit anyway."

In the end, they went through more than half of them. Most of what was in the boxes was either ruined beyond repair or not really important. Bilbo found the old stuffed dog that his mother had given Prim when she was little. Prim immediately named it Huan; she'd brought it with her everywhere. Now it reeked of mildew and was missing part of one of its legs. Bilbo and Frodo both agreed to stop looking through the boxes for a while. 

Frodo slumped down the hall to the bathroom – he'd immediately complained about the smell – to take a shower and then, Bilbo assumed, go onto Skype and talk to Sam and Rosie. Bilbo turned on the kitchen lights, propped the dog up against Frodo's empty cup, took a picture of it with his phone, and sent the picture to his mother.

As expected, his phone rang less than a minute later.

"Hi mom," Bilbo said.

"That's Huan. How did you get him?" Bella's voice was thick.

"I brought the salvaged stuff back from the boat. We started going through it today. I'm surprised Frodo got through more than one box. It's all so trashed." They were silent for a few minutes, then Bilbo ran a finger down Huan's belly. "We found Huan and had to stop."

"He's a mess. Is that mildew?" Her voice was still hoarse, but he could hear the iron will under her grief.

"I think so. And something sliced his foot off. He smells pretty awful."

She sighed. "Soak him in soapy warm water with vinegar in it. Squidge it around and let it soak. After a couple of hours, squeeze the water out. Put him in a ziplock bag in the freezer and come up next weekend. I'll fix him."

Bilbo smiled, standing to follow her instructions. "I knew you could fix this, mom. You're the best."

"I love you, kiddo."

"Love you too, mom."

***

Bilbo spent the next week stuck in midterms. On Friday, he and Ori sat at his kitchen table eating pizza and working through the Ochem tests. After three hours, Bilbo looked at the stack of finished tests and groaned.

Ori flashed him a look and grinned into the test he was working on. "Don't you love this? Isn't this why you became a teacher? I'm sure the Dean would be happy to give you another class next quarter." he said.

"Bite your tongue," Bilbo said. He stood and stretched, twisting to release the tension in his back. "Want coffee? I've got some gingersnaps to go with it."

Ori slipped the test onto the finished pile and nodded, rubbing his eyes. "Yes, please. And why can't these damned kids write intelligibly?"

"Who was that?" Bilbo craned to see the handwriting, then snorted. "Daniel. Yeah, I don't know. His family are ophthalmologists, maybe bad handwriting is genetic?"

Ori rolled his eyes. "Anything's possible." He leaned back. "How's Frodo?"

Bilbo sighed, setting the coffee and cookies down on the table. "He's better. He has good days and bad days. He's still seeing the counselor, Peredhil." He rubbed his eyes. "And we started going through boxes of stuff salvaged from his parents' boat. This sucks."

Ori rubbed Bilbo's shoulder. "It does. I'm so sorry. Is there anything worth saving or is it all a heap of mildewed misery?"

Bilbo smiled gently. "We found his mother's oldest stuffed animal."

"Oh, ouch."

"Yeah. He's a mess of mildew and something cut off part of one of his legs, but my mother says she can fix him, so he's in my freezer right now." He drained his coffee cup and stood. "Don't tell Frodo. We're waiting to see if we can get all the mildew and crap out."

Ori nodded and brought his now-empty cup to the sink. "I'm going home. You'll be okay?"

Bilbo shrugged. "Yup. When you're lying on Bofur, spare a thought for poor old me, suffering with my piles of tests."

Ori laughed and swept out.

Bilbo looked at the stacks of tests. "You know what? Fuck it. We're going up to my parents' house this weekend. I'm done with you for the night." He shoved them all into his bag, poured a glass of wine, and went to his office.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: Tragu_

_My Dear Professor,_

_I am delighted to have been introduced to you. I am available this weekend, and much of next week. I would greatly enjoy a chance to get to know you better, and to discuss our various shared interests. Please let me know when you are available and I will arrange my schedule around yours._

_Best Regards,_

_Smaug  
_

Bilbo blinked at this email and barked a laugh. "Oookay, then."

_To: Tragu  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Smaug,_

_I'm looking forward to discussing our research techniques and writing. I am not available this weekend, but I am available next Wednesday and Friday. What kind of food do you like? I can recommend some restaurants in San Francisco, if you don't already have a favorite._

_Bilbo  
_

After finishing the glass of wine, Bilbo sent an email to Nori asking him what he knew about Smaug and if the man was always so odd. In the kitchen he refilled the glass, absently draining the wine bottle.

Back at his computer, he took a sip of wine and opened the Gundabad website. Azog's little icon shouted things about someone named Rancic and how she was clearly racist. Another of his icons was upset about a news anchor who'd lied about coming under fire in the Iraq War. 

There wasn't anything about Thorin – or Bilbo – on the first page, but on the second, cartoon Azog winked at the screen next to a headline that screamed: _OAKENDICK TAKES TO EUROPE TO LICK HIS WOUNDS!!_

The article this linked to described Thorin skiing in Sweden with a dark haired actress who looked vaguely familiar to Bilbo. There was a picture of the two of them standing in front of a large rustic wooden building, arms around each other, smiling into the camera. 

Bilbo sighed and closed the website. After a few moment's thought, and another few sips of wine, he re-opened it and searched for Smaug. To his surprise, he showed up three times. The first two were simply Azog discussing his books; he seemed to be quite a fan. The third, from nearly a year before, wasn't what Bilbo expected at all.

_SMAUG CLAIMS ANCIENT LINEAGE, BEGINS SEARCH FOR LOST HEIRLOOMS_

_Smaug has finally admitted where he has been getting the shocking ideas for his many books – his own family history! Apparently, he's the only surviving member of Eastern European royalty and his books are stories handed down in his family since before time was time._

_I can't imagine the locals were happy with a royal family which was so bloodthirsty, but you never can tell. Maybe they were proud – 'our king kills more Ottomans than anyone else's.' (We won't question why Albanian kings had it in for small puffy footrests, although we do wonder what Smaug thinks of them.)_

_He says he's looking for many of the royal heirlooms which he claims have been stolen over the past few hundred years. One wonders upon whom he'll shower this wealth once he finds it._

Directly below this text was a photograph of Smaug standing in an open room with a balcony railing on one side and large paintings on the walls behind. The railing curved around a long drop and Bilbo could see broad windows on the floor below. Smaug's eyes were very pale against the dark colors of his surroundings.

Bilbo shook his head, closed the browser, drained his glass, and went to bed.

He and Frodo didn't talk much on the drive to Hobbiton, but Frodo perked up when he saw everything Bella had made them to have for breakfast. Sam and Rosie had stayed home, so Frodo spent Saturday afternoon wandering through the nearby wilderness with Bungo. 

"They'll be sure to come home with at least one pie's worth of mushrooms," Bella said, smiling at their backs through the kitchen window. Bilbo, who'd already covered the kitchen table with the tests he still needed to work on, grinned at her.

"How terrible. I might have to have mushroom pie for dinner." 

Bella laughed, then turned to the remains of Huan. With a sigh, she settled in to work on him in the one empty bit of table Bilbo had left her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. Cake mix. Ugh. But really, if you have a pack of starving teenagers, cake mixes aren't the worst thing they could do in a kitchen. And yes, the [tomato soup](http://www.campbellskitchen.com/recipes/easy-tomato-soup-spice-cake-24345) is a real thing. I've done it and it's not bad. (Not the best cake I've ever had, but better than many box cakes I've had.


	63. Sixty Three – Emails and Klezmer, what a combination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a relaxing weekend at his parents' house, Bilbo gets several interesting emails. Then, he has a great time out listening to good music made by his friends, Kili and Fili.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yitzak Perlman plays klezmer [here](https://youtu.be/DkmFgQ9fM94?t=49s)
> 
> Kaschaur Klezmer Band [here](https://youtu.be/q1oG32IrNP4)
> 
> I mean, really, who could sit still when this is playing? I know I can't.

Sunday, Bilbo woke up early. He filled a thermos with coffee, left a note on the kitchen table, and went out into the morning mist. After a bit of brisk walking, he ended up on the banks of the Baranduin River. The trees loomed overhead, keeping the mist close to the water; the mist muffled the rushing sound as the water chattered past the rocks and exposed tree roots.

He carefully picked his way across to the large mossy stone in the center, clambering up to the top. With a gusty sigh, he sat down and poured a cup of coffee.

"Well, he's growing up, Prim. I mean, yeah, we knew he would, and Drogo, he's getting better. The therapist guy, Peredhil, seems to be good for him." Bilbo sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I wish you were here. I wish you hadn't gone on that fucking cruise. I know you wanted to, but I don't think it was worth it."

He sat, his butt growing increasingly cold, until the rising sun burned off the mist. Finally, he stood and poured the last of the coffee onto the rock. "I hope you're doing okay, where ever you are."

The rest of the day was spent laughing with his family and finishing grading.  
***

After his first class on Monday, he got an email from Balin.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: B.Jarnnave_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_Of course I remember you. I saw the paper you had in Enzymes last month – it was quite interesting. I wasn't aware you were working with Lorien as well as at the university. I'm impressed you have the time, especially with your family responsibilities._

_As for coming to your university to teach, while I'm flattered at Gandalf's interest, do tell him that I'm perfectly happy where I am and that I've no interest in trying to be an educator. It's not really where my skills lie. I could put together a seminar, perhaps, for the graduate students, but nothing long-term._

_Now that business is out of the way, how have you been? My brother seems to think that things have gone horribly awry – is Thorin just being his usual thick-headed self, or is Dwalin correct and there's something wrong?_

_Please don't think that my cousin's inability to be articulate will affect your standing with the rest of the family; you're one of us now, and nothing can change that. Over the summer, Dwalin hosts camps for children at his home and I'm certain he'd enjoy having your nephew join one of the groups. They're usually for inner-city children who haven't had a chance to spend much time out of doors, but I'm sure your young lad would have a good time._

_I'll forward him your email, if that's acceptable?_

_Please don't hesitate to email if you need anything._

_Balin_

Bilbo blinked, then clicked on the next email.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: DuBekar_

_Bilbo,_

_My brother sent me your email. I hope this is okay._

_First, Thorin's a dick. I mean, he's a great guy, but he's a dick. We've all told him to get the hell over Azog and what happened between them, but he's a sucker and easily guilt-tripped. Azog did a real number on him and he's still fucked up about it. Don't know what else to tell you, except that if anyone could get him to get over Azog, I thought it would be you._

_Second, Fili said something about Frodo being taken away? What the hell? He says you've got Dain on the case, but if you need someone who can provide more direct action, I might know a guy. Keep me posted._

_If he and his pack of goons want to come out for a week in the summer – lots of horseback riding, outdoor camping, orienteering stuff – let me know. I'd love to have them._

_Yours,_

_Dwalin._

Bilbo leaned back in his chair. "What do you mean, 'what happened between them'? I thought they were …" 

"What?" Beorn looked up. He'd been cleaning Shelob's tank and had hay in his hair. 

Bilbo turned to him. "What? Oh, sorry, I didn't know I said that out loud." He turned back to the computer. "I think I just figured something out."

"Good," Beorn said. "You're one up on most of my students this quarter."

_To: DuBekar  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Dwalin,_

_Thank you for your kind email. I'm afraid I'm a bit at a loss, though. I'd been under the impression that Thorin and Azog had been friends in college and that they'd had a bad breakup, if it could be called that. Was there more to it?_

_And absolutely, I'm sure Frodo and his friends would enjoy a week in the wildernesses of Maryland. That's a lovely offer and I'm delighted to take you up on it. How much does it cost?_

_Bilbo_

On his way to his lab, Bilbo stopped into Gandalf's office to give him Balin's response. As he left, Gandalf was jotting down notes for what he thought the graduate students might be interested in hearing about. 

In the lab, Bilbo copied out the notes Ori had left for him, left a pile of things in return – knitting patterns and research notes – then he left to teach his afternoon class.

Tuesday evening, after making sure Frodo started his homework, Bilbo drove to Berkeley, watching the GPS carefully to make sure he didn't get lost. La Pena was in the middle of a residential neighborhood; the rest of the street was lined with comfortable looking little houses. It took Bilbo a bit of hunting to find a parking place, but finally he found something only a few blocks away.

He gave his name at the door and thanked the bright eyed woman who handed him his ticket. It was darkish inside, but he could see bright murals on the walls and lots of tables butting up to a flat stage with several chairs and microphone stands. A piano stood behind the main chairs, and there was a bass lying on its side as well.

"You came!" Kili came through the crowd, smiling broadly. "It's so good to see you." He gave Bilbo a big hug, then patted him on the arm. "Tauriel's at a table up front, with some of our other friends. I'll get you a drink – what do you want?"

Bilbo shook his head, laughing at Kili's enthusiasm. "Of course I came. I wouldn't miss it. And just a beer, please. Whatever's least hoppy." Kili charged off towards the bar and Bilbo tried to make his way in the direction Kili had pointed. After a moment, he saw Tauriel's bright hair and pushed through the rest of the happy crowd.

"Wow," he said, falling into an empty chair, "this is quite a shindig."

Tauriel laughed, her teeth flashing in the light from the stage. "Yes. The charity is very popular and Kili and Fili are very good." She tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned in close to Bilbo. "Don't let him know I said that."

Bilbo laughed. "My lips are sealed."

"Bilbo, you made it!" Fili dropped into a chair opposite him, smiling. "I saw a report that said traffic was a mess and I was worried you'd be stuck."

"580 was clear," Bilbo said. "Oh, thank you!" Kili had just put a large glass of amber foamy beer in front of him, and Bilbo took a sip. "Very good – what is it?"

"Honey basil ale," Kili said, sipping from his own drink. "So, how's Frodo?"

They spent an amused half hour discussing Frodo, when someone tapped Fili on the shoulder. "Time to go," he said and he and Kili left. Before they made it to the stage, they were hugged by someone Bilbo couldn't quite see. 

"Oh, Legolas is here," Tauriel said. "I'm glad he's not late, as usual."

"Ah, I wouldn't let him stop for coffee, that's probably it," Gimli said, turning the chair Fili had been sitting in around and straddling it. "I've sent him off for drinks at the bar – I hope he's not getting anything too frilly."

Tauriel chuckled. "This isn't that kind of place and you know it." 

Gimli beamed at her. "He's a persuasive chap, our Legolas. I'm sure he could convince the bar to come up with something special."

"I brought you three different beers," Legolas said, sliding a tray onto the table. "I got them to make me a special sangria, so I'll have to go back for it in a minute. Will you want some, Tauriel, Bilbo?" He ignored Gimli, who was laughing into his fist.

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "I'll be interested in trying it, even if I don't drink much. I have to drive home and I haven't had dinner yet." At Tauriel's glance, he shrugged. "I didn't know if this was a dinner and a show sort of place, and I didn't remember to look before I came, so …" 

Legolas smiled. "I'll order a meal for you while I'm at the bar, shall I?" When Bilbo started to protest, he waved a hand. "It's no trouble at all. Gimli's having the chicken and I'll get some of the empanadas for the table. If we're still hungry later, we can get more."

The house lights dimmed, the stage lights came up, and several people took the stage. Fili stood at center stage and took one of the mics. After a fast introduction of the musicians, he explained the fundraising they were doing that evening and encouraged everyone to donate as much as they could by putting money into the jars at the front door. He replaced the mic and stood on the side, next to Kili. 

The band members all nodded to each other, one of them tapped his foot three times and the music started.

Bilbo wasn't aware of eating his meal, or of much else besides the music and the way the musicians bounced the melodies between them. After the set was over and the lights came back up, Bilbo blinked at his table-mates, who were smiling back at him.

"Your first klezmer?" Gimli said, wiping his hands on a napkin. 

"It's fantastic," Bilbo said. "I've heard similar things, but …"

"This group – Blue Mountain Music – has been trying to get Kili to quit Erebor for years," Tauriel said, smiling towards the stage, where several young women were vying for Kili's attention. "He and Fili have always been too loyal to their uncle to leave, but things seem to be changing."

"Changing with the … with Erebor?" Bilbo felt some of his pleasure drain away. _Thorin, what the hell are you doing?_

Gimli chuckled. "It wouldn't be the first time. There was that big shakeup, before my time, of course, but the whole band nearly broke up. They stopped doing anything together for, what?" He looked at Legolas, who shrugged. "Nearly a year, I think. Something to do with Thorin and one of the other original band members. Don't remember his name, though. Anyway, Erebor can take it. The rest of them wouldn't quit, and – sorry, Tauriel – the band needs Fili more than it does Kili."

She shrugged. "True enough." 

The lights came up further and Fili and Kili arrived at the table. "I'm famished," Kili said, sitting on Tauriel's lap. He looked morosely at the pile of empty plates and scrunched up napkins on the table. "Didn't you guys save us any?"

They ended up going to the pub next door for more conversation and food; by the time things wound down, Bilbo knew he was too tired to drive home. After a moment's bleary thought, he shook his head. _I can stay in the flet at Lorien. Of course._

The bed in the flet was very comfortable, and he just managed to remember to send Frodo a text saying where he was before the warmth of the blankets pulled him under.

The next morning, he sat yawning over coffee in the flet's kitchenette, looking out the window at the way the morning fog drifted through the trees. It reminded him of the Baranduin, and he sighed. "Time to move on, I think," he said and got dressed, pleased that he'd followed Galadriel's advice and moved some clothes to the flet. At the time, he'd been sure it was a silly suggestion, but now he just felt pleased he wouldn't have to wear yesterday's clothes.

In the cafeteria, he was surprised to see that he wasn't the only one up that early. Galadriel sat in the corner, in the single sun beam, a large breakfast in front of her. She looked up from her reading as he came in, and waved him over when he'd finished choosing his own breakfast.

"I saw your car," she said, smiling. "I didn't expect you this early."

He ran a hand down the back of his neck. "I, uh, stayed the night." He buried his nose in the steam from his coffee and drank nearly half the cup in one go.

She looked quizzical. "There aren't any overnight runs scheduled, are there?"

He laughed and finished his coffee, standing to go refill the cup. "No. I was in Berkeley last night for a friend's show and by the time we were done, it was far too late for me to drive home." He gestured with his cup. "Want a refill?"

She smiled. "Fill up one of the pots on the side, and just bring that. If you're here early, we might as well get started. There's something I wanted to talk to you about, anyway."

He brought back a pot of coffee and started to eat the omelette the kitchen had made for him while he was getting coffee. "What did you want to work on?"

She ran a finger around the rim of her cup. "I believe you've met an old friend of mine," she said. "And I'd like to encourage you to take any help he offers."

Bilbo stared at her, his mouth too full of food to answer immedately. After a moment, and a confused too-large swallow, he said, "I'm … sorry? I don't know who you're talking about."

"Glorfindel can be a bit overwhelming, but he's very good, and his help is honestly offered." 

"Oh." Bilbo sat straighter. "You know him? I mean, yes, thank you. I hadn't intended to bother him with my silly boat problem. He doesn't even know me."

She smiled. "He'd love to help, and I know he offered. Don't be shy about accepting. He likes rescuing people and he's a true friend." She stood, gathering her things. "As for work, I think we're on track. Let me know if something comes up."

He stared after her, wondering if there was enough coffee in the world to help him understand things. 

That evening, he opened his email to send Glorfindel a message, when he saw an incoming email from Smaug.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: Tragu_

_My Dear Professor,_

_I have taken the liberty of making reservations for us at the House of Ur. It is an excellent restaurant, something of a hidden gem; one which many people have not had the luxury of discovering. I'm certain it can provide us with both exquisite food and the privacy we desire._

_I enclose the address and information about the chef, a man who epitomises the robust energy of those who come from hybrid stock._

_I look forward to seeing you._

_Smaug_


	64. Sixty Four – Dinner Out, Information In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at the House of UR never fails to disappoint. There's always *something* interesting there.

Bilbo stared at the screen. "Hybrid stock? What the hell can you possibly mean by that?" He thought for a moment, then shook his head. 

_To: Tragu  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Smaug,_

_I'm sure the restaurant will be good. I have heard of it, and it always gets excellent reviews. I'll meet you there._

_Bilbo  
_

With a shrug for the oddities of the rich and famous, Bilbo sent an email to Glorfindel, asking to meet over coffee to discuss the Brandywine. While he was writing the email he realized that there was a lot he didn't know about boats. _I'd better do some research first, to figure out what I need to ask._

When he hit send, a new email from Balin had arrived. 

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: B.Jarnnave_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_Dwalin says that you appear to be confused about Thorin's history with Azog. I am not surprised that Thorin hasn't been forthcoming about their story – it's a situation for which he feels guilt, however misplaced._

_Unfortunately, I have a pressing deadline, so I don't have the time to give you the time and attention this deserves. It's something you should be fully aware of – the whole story as well as the ways it has affected Thorin and his relationships after Azog. I will be able to focus on the story and its recreation for you by the weekend, so expect an email from me by the end of Sunday._

_Your friend,_

_Balin  
_

Bilbo sat back. "Huh," he said. "That's not ominous at all." 

Thursday, Bilbo spent head down at the university, teaching his classes and trying to get through the work that the department committees kept insisting he'd agreed to do. Friday, he spent the morning reading lab reports, then after lunch, he worked on the next Horse Lords novel at a local coffee shop he liked. He was so engrossed in the story, he didn't notice anything going on in the café. Once, while staring across the room blankly, trying to figure out how to write the next part, he caught a glimpse of someone pointing their phone in his direction, but he forgot about it as soon as he fell back into his story. 

In the late afternoon, he drove across the bay bridge to San Francisco, watching the way the winter light filtered through the tall buildings of the city. He parked under Nori's building and in the elevator, he sighed at the unintentional re-creation of when he'd met Thorin at the House of UR. 

"You know," Nori said, after they'd discussed the upcoming tour and the new book, "you don't have to go out with Smaug."

Bilbo smiled. "I know. I'd like to talk to him about where he does his research, though. He's not even the weirdest person I've talked to in order to get information for my books, so …" He finished his coffee. "Did I tell you where he made reservations for us to eat? House of UR – I haven't any way of contacting Bombur –" He groaned and covered his eyes with a hand. "Oh crap, I do. I could have asked Ori to ask Bofur to tell his brother –" 

Nori laughed, shaking his head. "Tell him what, that you're coming to eat his magnificent food again?"

Bilbo grinned. "Something like that. I feel odd, going there without … without Thorin." He paused. "What do you know about Smaug?"

Nori raised an eyebrow. "Not much, really. He's from some Eastern European country or another – says he's the last of the royal line, but between you and me, I think that's a crock of shit. I mean, sure there _was_ a royal family in Albania, sort of, but it's a mess. Everyone was fighting everyone else and betraying them when they weren't marrying them." Nori grinned. "I admit, though, it does make for good storytelling."

"So he is using his family's history? I mean," Bilbo waved a hand. "Whether or not it's really his family, he's using real history? Some of the stuff he had in the book I read was very detailed."

"I don't know. He's one of mine, but we didn't represent him when that one came out and, honestly, I think I'm going to give him to one of the other agents. I just don't have time for his sort of antics."

Bilbo looked at his hands, folded in his lap. "Antics like calling someone 'hybrid stock'?"

Nori laughed. "Yeah, shit like that. I mean, really, who does he think he is?" He tipped his head to the side. "He hasn't called _you_ that?"

"No, but he said it about Bombur, which confused me. I mean," Bilbo's lips twisted. "I've read and seen some pretty awful things, but this doesn't make any sense."

Nori's eyes had narrowed. "No, that doesn't." He pursed his lips and tapped them with a finger. "I'll see if I can find out more about him. I know the people who used to represent him and I might know people who can dig deeper. It's too bad he's so good at telling a story, because it's increasingly clear he's an asshole."

"Seems like it," Bilbo said, then stood. "Anyway, I should get going."

Bilbo enjoyed the walk from Nori's office to the parking structure under the radio offices and was disappointed not to meet Legolas in the elevator down. There wasn't anyone in the little waiting area at the elevator, so Bilbo waited for a few minutes, then went up to the reception area.

The woman behind the desk was the same one who'd been there when he'd come the first time. When he left the elevator, she stood and smiled at him. 

"Professor Baggins, how nice to see you. Are you meeting with Mr Blafjel?"

Bilbo smiled back, surprised she knew his name. "No, I don't think so. I'm meeting someone for dinner –" 

"Oh," she said, looking startled. "I didn't see Mr Durin's name on the register." She turned and bent over something on her desk.

"It's not Tho – Mr Durin. I'm eating with Smaug …" Bilbo suddenly realized he didn't even know if Smaug was the other man's first or last name.

She stood, her face suddenly perfectly smooth. "Ah yes, he didn't say with whom he'd be dining. I'll just let Mr Blafjel know you're here." She glanced at her watch, a small glittering thing wrapped around her wrist. "You're just a bit early." She nodded to Bilbo, then vanished behind one of the ubiquitous curtains.

Bilbo looked around, then wandered down to look through the window he'd seen the first time. He looked into the radio station office and, to his surprise, saw Tauriel in the window opposite. She appeared to have been leaning on the window, staring at his window. When she saw him, she waved broadly and grinned. Kili came up beside her and waved as well, slipping his other arm around her waist while he did. 

Bilbo chuckled. _They're a cute couple._ He looked down toward the street below and watched the cars move along the road – when he was a child, he'd imagined that there was an invisible traffic choreographer. There seemed to be a bit of a hold up just below his window and he wondered what was causing the back up.

"Bilbo!" 

He swung around and was immediately pulled into a huge hug. Bombur squeezed him tight, then set him back on his feet, keeping his hands on Bilbo's shoulders.

"So, you're here with Smaug?" Bombur was smiling, but his eyes were questioning.

Bilbo sighed. "Yes. He's a writer, like me, you know, and – " 

"So you _are_ Bandobras Took! Gloin owes me a ten spot." Bombur chortled and Bilbo started to laugh.

"Yes, how did I forget to say that part?" He half-bowed, hand over his heart. "Bandobras Took, at your service. Anyway, I read one of Smaug's books and they're quite good. I met him at my agent's office – my agent's Nori, did I tell you that part? Probably not."

Bombur's smile had grown. "I did know that you knew Nori, but I thought it was because of his younger brother. I'm hopeful that we'll all be brothers soon."

Bilbo shook his head. "The world just keeps getting smaller and smaller, doesn't it?"

"Seems so. But – Smaug?" Bombur's head was slightly tilted and Bilbo caught a glimpse of an earpiece. 

"Right. So, anyway, I wanted to talk to Smaug about where and how he does his research, because it's really detailed and if he's getting primary sources, I'd love to know where and how." He shrugged. "And since Nori knows both of us, he had us meet and, well, here we are."

Bombur nodded. "That seems reasonable." His eyes unfocused slightly, then he nodded again. "Well, it sounds like things are about to start, so I'll see you another time. We should get together and discuss cooking." He drew Bilbo in for one last, quick, hug, then turned and disappeared behind the same curtain which had previously eaten the hostess.

She emerged as Bombur left, smiling at Bilbo. Just then, a door opened and Smaug strode into the foyer. He didn't look left or right, but stepped directly to the hostess. Smaug was much taller than the woman, even in her high heels; he stood over her, his head tipped slightly back.

"I am Smaug and I am awaiting a Professor Baggins. You will seat me, and when he arrives, you will bring him to my table immediately." The hostess' eyes flicked to where Bilbo stood, against the window. "Is that understood," Smaug asked.

She nodded. "Yes, absolutely." 

Before she could turn to lead him to the table, Bilbo stepped forward. "Smaug," he said, "how nice to see you."

Smaug stiffened, then turned on his heel, his expression slipping into a happy one. "Why, Bilbo, I'm surprised to see you already upstairs. I had someone waiting for you downstairs at the front entrance, so you wouldn't be lost."

Bilbo started to say something about the little waiting room in the parking garage being empty, but the hostess shook her head the slightest amount. "I must have missed them," he said instead, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "However, I'm starving and I'm looking forward to dinner. Shall we go in?"

Smaug slipped his jacket off and a young man Bilbo hadn't seen stepped forward to take it. After hanging Smaug's coat in a hidden closet, he moved toward Bilbo, who handed his own jacket over. The coat check boy's eyes widened at the weight of the jacket, but he hung it up as well. 

Smaug nodded and they followed the hostess down the corridor. Bilbo was surprised to see that they didn't continue through the door to the private rooms, but instead turned left and entered the main dining room. She brought them to a table in a window, handed them menus, then left. 

Smaug glanced at his menu, then closed it with a snap and set it down on the table, turning to look over the room. He leaned in slightly and said in an undertone, "Well, how interesting. Thranduil Laegrim and his son are here as well. There's someone else with them. I wonder who it could be."

Bilbo looked up and followed Smaug's gaze. Thranduil sat with his back to the wall; Legolas was next to him and Gimli sat opposite Legolas. Thranduil's eyes were cool, but Legolas and Gimli both sent Bilbo small smiles.

A server arrived and smiled broadly. "Hello," she said, her voice low and warm. "I'm Amanda. Would you like something to drink or are you ready to order?"

Smaug smiled thinly. "We'll begin with the Hawaiian Heart of Peach Palm, then have the Wagyu for the main course, and end with – " He glanced at Bilbo. "We will be wanting dessert, I assume. Would you prefer something chocolate or a cake?"

Bilbo closed his menu, took a breath, and said, "Actually, thank you, but I'm going to have something different. I'd like to start with the eggplant confit and then have the veal. And I'm sure your sommelier knows which wines will pair best, so I'll trust them." He smiled at Amanda. "Thank you very much, Amanda."

Smaug's brows were drawn together, but he smiled. "Those sound like excellent choices. I'll have to try them next time I'm in town." He handed his menu to Amanda, who nodded and left.

They sat in silence for a moment, then Bilbo chuckled. "I'm looking forward to the meal. I've heard that the food here is truly excellent." He spread his napkin in his lap. "Really, though, I'd like to ask you about your books. Where do you do your research?"

Smaug leaned back, suddenly looking very smug. "It's all my family's history. I come from an ancient family in Eastern Europe, one which was involved in many important events. I'm –" He broke off as Amanda returned with glasses of wine and their appetizers. "Thank you," he said. 

Smaug lifted his glass and held it out. "Here's to a long and profitable relationship," he said. Bilbo paused and tapped his glass against Smaug's, then set it down.

"You were saying?" Bilbo took a bite of his eggplant confit and looked at Smaug, who was chewing his own first bite. Smaug nodded, patted his lips with his napkin, then sat back.

"I am, in fact, the last of a line of Albanian royalty. My family was involved in all of the Albanian uprisings against the Ottomans and Venetians. We didn't lose our influence, even after the country eventually fell to the Ottoman Empire." He took several more bites of his salad, his expression thoughtful. 

"That's …" Bilbo took a breath. "That's unexpected. So you have primary sources from your family history? I didn't know that any of the Eastern European royal familes were intact."

Smaug's face stiffened. "Oh, I'm not … I am a direct descendant, but through a female line. I do have some of the family papers, and I have access to more of the histories, certainly more access than anyone unconnected might be able to procure." He sat back in his chair. "One of my goals with the continued publication of my books – of the story of my country and my family's past – is the return of the glories of our time as rulers."

Bilbo blinked. _That's a bit bizarre._ "You mean, like, titles and such?"

"Oh, those would be pleasant, but in a modern world, they're really meaningless." Smaug's expression was covetous, for just one second, then it smoothed. "No, what I'm hoping to be able to find is the treasures of my House, my family. There were several items, some of which have been destroyed. I believe that some of them were stolen by archeologists in the early parts of the last century, however, and those might be recoverable."

"Are they in museums?"

"No," Smaug said. "I believe they're still in the possession of the archeologists' families." He smiled at the young man who was clearing the plates from the table. "Two, in particular, are very precious to me. One is a heavy, two-handed gold cup with rubies around the rim and the other…" His hand reached out into the air, as if he could see the thing he wanted. "The other is a stone of impossible beauty, white and perfect. It seems to glow from within and any light that falls upon it is reflected back, more beautiful and brilliant than before." His eyes fell upon Bilbo's. "It is the Arkenstone, the one true treasure of my house and I want it back."


	65. Sixty Five – The Family Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has several very interesting conversations over - and after - dinner.

Bilbo stared for a heartbeat, then dropped his gaze to his plate, pushing his wine glass slightly forward. 

"I – really?" Bilbo caught Gimli's glance across the room and realized that Smaug hadn't been particularly quiet. "Could it have been one of the things the Nazis stole?"

Smaug's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure you know that can't be true. You must have seen the cup, at the very least."

Bilbo pulled back slightly from Smaug's glare. "What? Where would I have seen an antique two handled cup? You said it's not in a museum."

Smaug's face shifted from fury to concern so quickly that Bilbo found himself breathless. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I must have misunderstood," Smaug said, leaning forward and placing his fingers on Bilbo's sleeve. "I was under the impression you knew, but of course, you must be entirely innocent."

"I – what?" Bilbo pulled his arm away from Smaug. "What _are_ you talking about?"

"You ordered the Wagyu, sir?" Amanda had come back to the table carrying a tray with several dishes on it. The young man who'd cleared the earlier dishes stood behind her carrying a second tray similarly filled. 

Smaug's eyes tightened, but he leaned back and smiled up at her. "Why yes, thank you." He looked at the arrangement of plates she set in front of him and nodded. "This looks perfect. I will expect to see the chef later in the meal, of course."

Amanda smiled and turned to Bilbo. "Your veal, Mr Baggins," she said, placing his plates on the table. 

"It's _Professor_ Baggins," Smaug said sharply.

"Actually," Bilbo smiled, "just call me Bilbo." He looked over the food she'd brought. "This all looks lovely, thank you very much."

She dimpled at him, glanced over the table, and left, the bus boy trailing along behind her. 

Bilbo sighed and turned his gaze up to Smaug. "I'm honestly not sure what's going on here. I was looking forward to discussing research and primary sources with you – I don't often get the chance to talk to other writers. However," he paused and pressed his lips together. "It seems as if you had other expectations, both of our conversation and of me."

Smaug had taken a bite of his food and looked up at Bilbo. After swallowing, he said, "I regret that I have allowed my personal history to distress you. Please." He gestured toward Bilbo's food. "Don't let this minor interruption in our friendship cause you to miss out on Blafjel's culinary wizardry."

_I'm not sure that friendship is the right word, but whatever._ "I would certainly be upset if I skipped the food, that's true." Bilbo started eating, and as he did, he saw Legolas leave the room. 

After that, the conversation shifted to more neutral subjects – they had both traveled through Europe and began discussing different local cuisines. Bilbo found Smaug to be articulate and well-read, and surprisingly willing to try just about anything food-wise. Smaug had just brought up Italian maggot-cheese when someone cleared their throat next to the table. 

Bilbo turned to see Bombur resplendent in a stained chef's coat smiling down at them. Bilbo started to say something, but before he could, Bombur clapped his hands together and spoke.

"I do hope everything is to your taste," he said, nodding at Smaug. 

Smaug leaned back in his seat; he wiped his lips gently with his napkin, then laid it back in his lap. "Yes, thank you," he said, waving his hand toward the table. "The Wagyu was cooked to perfection, and the salad was excellent. I was less delighted with the decision to use a brown balsamic reduction for the potatoes when a white balsamic would have allowed the natural color of the potatoes to show."

For one moment, Bilbo couldn't move. He was horrified that someone would think to criticize the food, and _to the chef_ , but to his surprise, Bombur merely chuckled and said, "We find that the traditional balsamic has overtones which the less pigmented versions lack, so we sacrifice the purity of color for depth of flavor." He turned to Bilbo, still smiling. "And your meal, Professor Baggins?"

"I –" Bilbo blinked as Bombur raised his brows and shook his head. "Mine was exquisite, thank you. I especially enjoyed the lime and mint on the green beans. The acidity brightened the saltimbocca nicely. Also, the wines were very well paired – please thank the sommalier for their attention."

Bombur inclined his head, then bowed slightly to them and swept away, only stopping at the table with Thranduil, Gimli, and Legolas. He didn't spend much time there, but he left laughing, after clapping Legolas on the arm hard enough to knock the young man sideways into Gimli.

"His food is always incomparable," Smaug drawled, "but he does keep the oddest company. I've heard that his own brother carves wooden toys. For a living. I guess one can't choose one's family."

Amanda, who'd been setting out plates with an assortment of desserts, stiffened slightly. As she put the last plate out, she said, her tone neutral, "Enjoy. Coffee will be right out."

Half an hour later, Smaug stood. "This was most delightful," he said. "Shall I see you downstairs and to your car?"

Bilbo followed him through the room. Gimli caught his eye and crossed his own eyes; next to him, Legolas covered his face with a hand. Thranduil just nodded calmly in Bilbo's direction. 

In the corridor leading to the reception area, Smaug said, over his shoulder, "What an odd person to be sitting with the Laegrims. I wonder how they know him. I wouldn't expect Thranduil to spend time with someone who pulls such odd faces in public."

Once they were in the reception area, Smaug waited for the coat check boy to help him put on his coat. When the boy reached for Bilbo's, he shook his head. "No, thank you. I'm afraid I'll have to go use the restroom first." He turned to Smaug and reached to shake his hand. "I'm very sorry, but that means I won't be able to go down at the same time as you. It was very interesting to meet you."

Smaug clasped his hand and held it with both of his. "I greatly enjoyed our conversations and hope to repeat this again soon." He swept out the door he'd come in and Bilbo realized it wasn't the door he'd come through either time he'd been to the House of UR. 

After a silent moment, he turned to the hostess, who hadn't stood to see Smaug off. Bilbo opened his mouth; she smiled and pointed at the curtained doorway she'd gone through before seating them. "Through there," she said. 

"Oh," he said, "I don't actually have to – " 

She nodded. "Still. Third door on the right."

_Ooookay._

The third door on the right led directly into a scene of happy, organized chaos. Five people stood at large tables, each with a stove at one end. More people swarmed around the room, bringing things to and from various other cooking stations. Plates moved through the room, being filled and lining up at the end where Bombur sat, overseeing the final plating and decoration. His booming laugh filled the room, underpinning the general sounds of many people shouting all at once.

When Bilbo stepped through the door, Bombur looked up and waved him over. "You survived," he said, his face creased in a huge smile. He waved a hand and one of the swarming kitchen staff swerved out of their original path; within seconds, a stool matching Bombur's had materialized for Bilbo, as well as a large cup of strong coffee and a variety of cookies. 

"I did," Bilbo said, giving up on the idea of trying to politely refuse the cookies. _They'll be delicious, why pretend you don't want them?_ "I think I missed a lot of what was going on there." He paused while Bombur finished a set of plates and dealt with a question from his staff. 

Bombur sipped from his own cup. "Smaug is professionally difficult, I believe."

"That's one way to put it," Bilbo muttered, nibbling on something that tasted like a mixture of figs and olives in a crisp cracker. "I'm so sorry he was rude to you about your food."

Bombur laughed. "What, that little thing? Oh, that's nothing. You should hear what some people say – there was this spate of online foodies – " He used his fingers to make quotation marks around the word, and rolled his eyes. "They think that just because they can make a blog on Wordpress and afford to eat at expensive restaurants, that they have any idea of how food is really cooked and what good presentation is." He shrugged. "At least what Smaug said makes some sense."

Bilbo grinned. "Hipsters are awful, aren't they?" He heard a smothered laugh behind him and saw one of the girls giggling as she carried a bowl of scallops to the nearest chef.

"Anyway," Bilbo continued, "what's with the door? I mean, Smaug said he'd left someone at the door to meet me and I know there wasn't anyone there when I came in."

"Ah, yes. There _is_ a public front door. There's a little foyer and everything." Bombur's hands moved over more plates and he smiled at the waiter who swept them away and out to the dining room. "You, however, are family, so you come in the way we do."

Bilbo blinked at him, feeling very warm. "That's … thank you." 

"Once you're in the family, you'll never escape," Gimli said from behind him. Legolas stood at his shoulder, grinning. 

"I can't believe you made that face at me!" 

Legolas started laughing. "I couldn't stop him, I'm so sorry."

Bilbo just shrugged, laughing himself. "He's a grown man, if he can't control his face, why should you be able to?" He held out a plate of cookies and Gimli took three. "And how odd that you're all here today. Are you celebrating something?"

Legolas looked confused, but Gimli just shrugged. "Nah, we heard that you were going to be here with that wanker, so we came to keep an eye on you. And then his dad," he hooked his thumb at Legolas, who was thanking another of the staff members for a cup of tea. "His dad heard that we were coming here and he offered to pay if we brought him." Gimli leaned closer to Bombur. "He really liked the scallops."

"Wait, how did you hear I was coming here? And why would I need watching over?" Bilbo crossed his arms.

Legolas, Gimli, and Bombur all exchanged glances, then Legolas said, "No matter what he says, that man Smaug is not royalty, long-lost salic descent notwithstanding. My family – " He looked apologetic. "My family _does_ have connections to many of the old royal families – they're all distant connections, of course – " 

"Don't think your dad'd be pleased to hear you saying that," Gimli grinned.

Legolas rolled his eyes and continued. "So, I checked on him – Smaug – and he's not who he's saying he is. It wouldn't matter, really, but I think he's trying to use his supposed 'royalty' to swindle people."

Bilbo pressed his lips together. "So, how much of what he was saying did you hear?"

"Something about a stone and that he 'wants it back', but nothing clear." Gimli had moved on to eating a plate of noodles. When he saw Bilbo looking, he smirked. "Hey, I asked first, and it was returned to the kitchen. Not enough clams, the guy said. He's nuts, there's clams all over this." He used his fork to point to one, then swirled it into a ball of pasta and ate it. 

"I can't believe you still have room for more food," Legolas said, shaking his head. 

Bombur snorted. "This is the kid who could eat half a roast turkey all on his own when he was a teenager. He's slowed down."

Bilbo ran a hand over his face. "If that's what late teenagers are capable of, I won't be able to keep Frodo fed."

A little bit later, Legolas interrupted the discussion about Frodo and his recovery to say, "I'm sorry to change the subject, but I think it's important to find out what Smaug is after."

"Right," Bilbo said. "He only mentioned two things specifically. There was a gold cup, two-handled, he said. And a stone. Like a gemstone, I think. He said it was white and faceted. It had a name – Arch-something."

Bombur looked up, his eyes sharp."Arkenstone?"

"That's it." Bilbo turned to look closely at him. "How did you know?"

"I've heard the name before." Bombur's face was pointed away from Bilbo, down towards the plates of food he was finishing. "I'll see if I can … find more information about it."

"Well, I certainly don't have it, and I haven't seen it, so I don't know why Smaug was so upset. He seemed to think I'd have seen both." 

Bombur shrugged. "He sounds as unpleasant as I've heard him to be. I mean, I've nothing against him for pretending to be royal – lots of people like to pretend to be kings and stuff – but I don't like the way he treats my staff."


	66. Sixty Six – It's Good to Know, Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets an interesting set of emails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter discusses manipulative events and actions, so heads up!

Bilbo woke up late the next morning. He had a quiet breakfast on his own – Frodo was still asleep – and then he spent the time until lunch writing in his office. He ate leftovers that Bombur had sent home with him for lunch, checking in with Frodo to make sure that he'd eaten while Bilbo had been stuck in his story.

When he got back to his office, cup of coffee and plate of cookies in hand for further sustenance, he realized that he hadn't checked his email in the past day or two. He sighed and opened the school email.

Five students wanted to meet to discuss their grades, there were eight emails from the search committee, all asking him to meet at times which conflicted with his teaching schedule, Gandalf had sent him a list of things he wanted forwarded to Balin for possible short seminar courses, and the Student Union was having a Fun Faire in two weeks.

He emailed the students and set up a group meeting – most of them just wanted to go over their answers on the midterm, and that could best be done all together. The search committee got an emailed reminder about his actual schedule, and he just forwarded Gandalf's email to Balin with a header saying that Balin could totally refuse all of Gandalf's suggestions.

Then he checked his personal email and sat staring at an email from Balin. 

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: B.Jarnnave_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_I've been trying to write this for the past few days and I'm not sure that any of the different versions is the right one. I couldn't tell what you really need to know, so I decided to tell you everything. I've talked to Dwalin about this and he agrees with me. He's sending an email of his own, I think._

_So in the event, I'm not sure exactly where to start. I guess with how Thorin is related to Dwalin and me._

_We call ourselves cousins, and that's true enough, but someone with more specific understanding of kinship nomenclature might be able to name the specific type of cousin we are. We share a great-great grandfather; our great grandfathers were brothers._

Bilbo closed his eyes for a second. "Third cousins, it's not hard," he whispered. 

_We grew up in New York. We had homes in Manhattan and upstate, in a little town called Lysander. We mostly spent our time in the city, but long weekends, every vacation, and every single summer was spent upstate._

_I'm ten years older than Dwalin, so I wasn't involved in most of the shenanigans he and Thorin got up to. They're only a year apart and could have been twins, the way they were together. I admit that I was a bit jealous, when I was younger. They were hellions and used to egg each other on to greater and greater heights of amusing idiocy._

_If you ever want to make Thorin blush, ask him about the time he put a goat in his grandmother Istar's conservatory. She was furious, but she ended up keeping the goat as a pet. It lived a long, happy, and very fat life._

_Anyway, Azog lived near us in Lysander. His family was exceptionally rich – they made their money the way the Kennedys did. We kids didn't realize what that meant until much later. I wonder, sometimes, how much Thorin's grandfather and father knew about US history. They came here in either 1959 or 60 – the records we have are a bit unclear. They wouldn't have known, necessarily, that earning money from Prohibition might imply a tendency towards violence, one which the family might deliberately continue to teach their children._

_Well, honestly, Thror wouldn't have found that a problem, but he was always more rough and tumble than my grandfather. More than his own son, as well. Thrain would have been horrified at the thought that he might be seen to be involved with someone who might be a law breaker._

_Not, please understand, that Thrain was above breaking the law himself if he thought it might be necessary, but he was more concerned with appearances than it might seem, from someone with a son who's an internationally known rock star._

Bilbo ran a hand over his face. "I think maybe I should be taking notes."

_Thorin's branch of the family moved here after mine did – my great-grandfather came just before World War One. He was a doctor, as was my father. They always wanted me to follow in their footsteps, but they had to settle for my cousin Oin. He's Gloin's brother, I'm sure you two have met. I know you know Gloin's son, Gimli._

_I just looked over what I've written and I'm not sure if it's really relevant but it's not secret, so I'll leave it._

_As for Azog, he was always a bit odd regarding Thorin. They met over the summer when they were about twelve. He's the same age as Dwalin and I remember they fought like wildcats at first. I wasn't there much. I had just graduated from university and spent most of that summer working on applications to graduate school. It was easier to do that from one of the flats in the city, so I only came up to Lysander on long weekends and for a couple of weeks around July Fourth that year._

_What I remember of Azog is that he was a scrappy little kid, one of a small pack of boys who ran the teenaged part of town. He had brothers, older and younger, but he was the leader of the group. As they all grew older, he remained the leader; he got bigger as well, until he was the biggest of all of them. Except Dwalin – I think that's when Dwalin started lifting weights._

_Azog always wanted Dwalin to do as he was told – like the rest of the kids – and was deeply angry that nothing he tried worked. I could have told him that my brother would always do what he wanted, no matter the opposition. Dwalin's never taken well to restriction._

_The peculiar thing, especially in retrospect, was how Azog looked at Thorin. Nowadays I'd see it for what it was, a giant crush, but we were less observant and open-minded then and just passed it off as hero-worship._

Bilbo went to refresh his coffee and cookies. As the coffee pot refilled, he looked sightlessly out the kitchen window to the back yard. "What kind of boy was Thorin that some random kid would worship him? What a weird thing to think."

He dithered in the hallway at the living room door, then put his food and coffee down on the side table. He fetched his laptop and one of his mother's afghans and sat down in his favorite chair to continue reading. 

_It seems foolish now, to have ignored Azog's repeated troubles, but he always seemed to have an excuse or a reason why he wasn't the one at fault._

_There were a couple families which moved away, I remember that, after their kids had run-ins with Azog's little gang. Azog's father was powerful in the town's politics, so Azog was very used to being the one in charge. I know that he used to steal from the drug store right in front of the cops. They'd just shrug and laugh._

_Thorin didn't really notice anything out of the ordinary, or at least he didn't say so to anyone who told me about it. He might have talked to Dwalin about things, but I don't think they'd have been able to keep Dwalin from seriously beating Azog up if he thought Azog was actually hurting Thorin._

_Azog came to the city a couple of times to visit and I remember Dwalin and Thorin planning things for them to do with him, but when Azog was in town, somehow Dwalin always ended up left behind._

_I watched it happen, once, now that I think about it. Azog had been down to look at high schools with his father, and he was supposed to spend the weekend with Thorin. Dwalin was going to stay over as well, then Thorin's family was going to take all the kids – Thorin, Frerin, Dis, Dwalin, and Azog to see a show and go out to dinner._

_I remember being there – I'd needed to talk to Thrain about something – and I watched as Azog managed to start a fight between Dis and Frerin. Dwalin tried to stop the fight and, it's funny, Bilbo, but I remember seeing Azog lean in and say something to Dwalin and then Dwalin was snarling with anger, so all three were told to stay home as they couldn't act like adults._

_Now that I'm remembering it, the look of satisfaction on Azog's face was quite striking._

_Anyway, Thorin went to Stanford in 1981 and Dwalin and Azog followed the year after. Dwalin did Economics and Public Policy and Azog got a Journalism degree. I wasn't entirely in touch with them at this point. I was working through my post-grad work and getting started in research and sort of – lost track of anything that wasn't a big family event._

Bilbo sat back. "Economics?" He thought of the tattooed giant who'd been so enthusiastic about his rusty Jeep and grinned. "I guess you can't tell who a person is by what they look like. Good to be reminded of that."

Sam stuck his head through the living room door. "We're making – oh, are you talking to someone?"

Bilbo shook his head. "Just myself. Do you guys need help?"

"Nah, thanks. We're making popcorn balls, though. Want some?" 

"Sure. Try not to burn yourselves, okay?" Bilbo grinned at Sam's jaunty wave and found himself staring after the young man, suddenly struck by how much better things were. _Frodo and Sam and Rosie can figure things out without being forced into one box or another. Maybe we're getting better._ He turned back to Balin's email and sighed.

_Most of this I just have second hand, but Dwalin would call home with stories about how Azog and Thorin were, well, seeing each other. I'm not sure his mother ever really understood what was going on. Thrain had kept her pretty well sheltered from the less traditional side of life, and to be honest, she was really a homebody, happiest when running her home and feeding everyone who got close enough._

_She was an avid reader and quite intelligent, but she never lived up to Thrain's hopes that she'd be a powerhouse in the moneyed charity circuit. No one missed her Sunday dinners, though, not if they had a chance to be there, and she never forgot a birthday or important family date._

_Thorin started working on music in his spare time. He, Dwalin, Azog, and a couple of their college friends would do gigs at the little bars in the area – I got the impression things were rather wild at some of the places._

_Thorin started seeming twitchy when he came home some time around his third year at Stanford. He didn't want to talk about his personal life, which I put down to whatever perversions he was getting up to with Azog. It turns out that Azog was trying to convince him that he shouldn't … no that he_ couldn't _be with anyone else. I think he even tried to get Thorin to stop coming home, but he wouldn't abandon his family._

_Dwalin knows more about this than I do, but I remember it all coming to a head after they'd graduated and started the band officially. They spent a couple of years building a repertoire and reputation. The band was called Nogrod then and none of the people now in Erebor were there, except for Thorin, of course._

_This was a few years after college. Thorin was dating a woman rather seriously. His mother seemed to think they might get married, but then something happened and they broke up. Her younger brother died at about the same time and I always assumed that she'd broken up with Thorin because she wanted to break all ties and move back to Indiana. That seemed sad, because if anyone could understand how it felt to lose a baby brother, it was – is – Thorin. I thought Frerin's death would destroy the whole family._

_Somehow, though, the whole band broke up, right about that time. Thorin tried to work at his father's firm, but it didn't take and he re-started the band, but under a different name and with something like the current line up._

_The thing is, whatever it was that Azog did and said to him has never left him. He's convinced that no one will stay with him and that anyone who does is, somehow, in danger. I know that Azog spends time on that website, denigrating Thorin and anyone else Azog's taken a dislike to, but I can't see that being called names online is enough to make a person break up with Thorin if he or she really loved him._

_I haven't seen Thorin quite so involved in anyone as he was with you, at least not since he went to college. We all thought that if anyone could break through Thorin's misplaced guilt and worry, it would be you._

_I still think you should keep trying. He was happy when you were together, and I'd like to hope he was making you happy as well._

_It's late and I've finished the bottle of wine while trying to get this to make sense, so I'm off. Let me know if you have any questions._

_Yours in hopes that we'll be family,_

_Balin  
_

Bilbo re-read the last few paragraphs, then set the laptop aside and went to check on Frodo and Sam. They were in the kitchen, Frodo wearing an apron with an octopus printed on it, and Sam wearing one covered in bright flowers. They greeted him with grins and a plateful of mis-shapen and very sticky popcorn clumps. 

After eating some of the food – and then washing his hands and face – Bilbo went back to the living room and looked at his email account again.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: DuBekar_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_My brother says he's going to email you about what happened between Azog and Thorin. That's fine, except he really doesn't know. No one really knows all of it except Thorin and he wouldn't tell anyone if you pulled out all his teeth._

_What I know is that Azog was an emotionally abusive and manipulative little shit – he always was, even from the first time we met him – and poor Thorin fell for it, every time._

_The other thing I know is that Azog had a boy killed to scare off a woman Thorin was going to marry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the apron Frodo is wearing: [The Chefalopod](http://www.spoonflower.com/fabric/267507). I have one and I love it.


	67. Sixty Seven – What Do You Do When Told Something Shocking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Bilbo needs is more information.

Bilbo's chest hurt and his eyes stung badly. The world looked greyish and he wondered if it was foggy tonight. There was a sudden heavy thump from outside and he jumped, heaving in a breath. He nearly choked and he realized that he hadn't been breathing at all for the past few moments. 

His eyes caught on the words on the screen – "had a boy killed…" and he flinched, turning away from the screen and looking toward the door. The thump had come from the back of the house, hadn't it?

He stood, setting the laptop aside and carefully not looking at the screen, where more words threatened below the last sentence he'd been able to read. 

The hallway was dark; no light shone from Frodo's room at the end of the corridor. Bilbo pushed Frodo's door open – it was early for Frodo to be asleep, but sometimes he fell asleep while doing something else (the fact that his light was always on when this happened was something Bilbo ignored as fiercely as he could) – but the room was empty. 

Bilbo felt his chest tighten again. He looked around. Frodo's laptop was missing, as was his phone, but there wasn't any way to tell if the rest of the mess was just Frodo's usual inability to put his dirty clothes in his hamper or something else.

"Maybe he's just having a snack," he whispered, not really believing it. The kitchen was dark as well, and the sliding glass door was locked. 

"Shit, Frodo, where are you?" Bilbo fumbled for his phone, but he'd left it somewhere. It wasn't in any of his pockets; he checked the kitchen table, then his office and bedroom, and then, slowly looked in the living room. His phone sat on the corner of the coffee table under the watchful eyes of Deathless. 

It took three tries to get the unlock code to work. Just as Frodo's phone started to ring, the back door thumped closed again and Frodo stuck his head through the living room door. 

"Hey, Uncle – " 

"Where were you?" Bilbo snapped. "Why didn't you tell me you were going out?" He felt a surge of joint-loosening relief followed immediately by fury.

Frodo stepped backwards. "I was at Sam's. We're working on a thing for Fili, remember he said that he'd – "

"You have to come home," Bilbo said, hearing how unreasonable he sounded but unable to stop himself. "I – you can have Sam over, but you have to be here."

Frodo stared at him, his mouth slightly open. "Wha – but Bilbo, he can't. He's got to watch his sister. I was just coming home to pick up my toothbrush."

Bilbo stood, clenching his teeth. _Just because Dwalin says Azog killed someone years ago doesn't mean it's true and doesn't mean he'd do it again now. You're being ridiculous._ With a physical effort, he said, "Okay. Go ahead. I'll see you tomorrow – bring Sam over and we'll make a big breakfast."

"Are you okay?" Frodo came closer and Bilbo was startled to see that Frodo was taller than him, now. 

Bilbo's chin jerked down, then up. "Fine, fine. I, um." He reached out and hugged Frodo. "I just had a couple of emails from Balin and Dwalin."

"That big guy – Thorin's cousin? What did he want? I hope Thorin's not trying to get him to apologize for him. He should have more respect for you than that." Frodo grinned and moved back toward his own room. "Tell him Sam and I say hi."

Bilbo said goodnight to Frodo in the kitchen, watching as the boy scrambled over the wall and out of sight. "He'll be safer if he's not here, right? I mean," Bilbo looked around the dark kitchen. "If someone comes here …" 

He collapsed into a chair and let his head fall onto the table. "This is crazy," he told the cool wood surface. "There's no reason for me to react like this. I'm just the same – everything is just the same as it was this morning." His head fell to the side and the faint reflections in the window of the lights of the clock on the stove caught his eye. "Maybe I'm just tired. I'll go to bed."

He stood, staggered slightly, then left the room, turning the living room light off as he passed it. He paused in the doorway for a moment before closing the laptop, picked up Deathless, who looked worried, then went to bed.

His dreams were dark and filled with anxiety and when he woke up, he wasn't sure, at first, if it was really morning. It was, just, and he knew he wouldn't get any more sleep so he got out of bed.

He took a longer shower than usual, trying to wake himself up, then started a batch of raisin scones for Sam to bring back home with him. While they were baking, he started a double batch of bread and tried to decide what to plan for dinners during the week.

Sam and Frodo were lively during breakfast. They'd been working on music, it turned out; Frodo remembered that Fili had offered to talk to him about composing music, so they'd been working on trying to write songs to show him what they could do.

Bilbo smiled and offered encouragement, but felt as if he was still half asleep. When the kids wound down, he offered to give Frodo's email to Fili, so they could be in touch directly.

In the living room, he stared at his closed laptop. The silver surface looked neutral and non-threatening and Bilbo closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

"You're being ridiculous. Azog isn't going to come storming in here with a gigantic gun and shoot everyone. Even if it is true, that was a long time ago. He's moved on." Bilbo lifted the lid of his computer, opened a new tab and opened his email. 

_To: TwinSwords  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Fili,_

_How've you been? I really enjoyed the concert – does that group have cds or something? I'd love to have their music._

_Speaking of music, Frodo was hoping you'd still be willing to talk to him about composing and professional music opportunities. Here's Frodo's email – MushroomKing@gmail – he'd love to hear anything you're willing to tell him._

_Also, there's something about your family I wanted to ask, but I'd rather ask in person. Can we meet for coffee sometime soon? I could have you come to meet me at the lab I’m working at in Berkeley. Let me know if and when you're available. I can meet you any evening, or any time on Wednesday or Friday. Sooner would be better for me than later, if you don't mind._

_Thanks,_

_Bilbo  
_

He looked at the still-unfinished email from Dwalin and shook his head. "Not now." Just as he was about to leave the room, he heard the ping of an incoming message.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: TwinSwords_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_Of course I'll talk to Frodo. Should I come over now? We could kill two birds with one stone that way – he and I could bore the pants off everyone else by droning on (heh) about music and stuff and then you could satisfy my now burning curiosity to find out what you want to know._

_Should I bring the family photo albums? If this is the old connection to Dori's family, we know, Thorin told us. How funny that we're related, huh?_

_Fili  
_

_To: TwinSwords  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Fili,_

_We'd love to have you for dinner, but what I want to talk to you about is probably best not talked about in front of Frodo and the other kids. It's possible you don't know, honestly._

_What do you know about what happened between Thorin and Azog?_

_Bilbo  
_

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: TwinSwords_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_I thought Thorin told you about it, I … you know what, I'm coming for dinner. I'll be there in an hour. White or red wine? I'll bring both._

_Fili  
_

Bilbo sat back, chuckling. "Well, that wasn't what I expected." On his way to the kitchen, he told Frodo that Fili was coming for dinner. He started a pan of macaroni and cheese with sharp cheddar and gorgonzola, then stared blankly into his freezer. 

Fili knocked on the door about an hour and a half after he'd emailed. He was juggling a large satchel, a paper shopping bag, and two guitars. He barely had a chance to say hello to Bilbo before Frodo and Sam came barrelling down the hall to meet him. Laughing, Fili handed the guitars to Frodo, then turned to Bilbo, handing him the satchel and the bag.

"The stuff in this bag's for later. I'm going to go start the grilling session. Rescue me when dinner's ready?" He pulled his own laptop from the satchel, then followed Frodo and Sam down the hall.

Bilbo stood in the foyer, bemused. _I wonder what's in here._ He brought the paper sack to the kitchen and peeked in, then started laughing. Fili had, apparently, raided Thorin's house. Bibo pulled out two bottles of wine – one white and one red, as Fili had promised – then a container of Thorin's pate, several boxes of crackers, and at least four kinds of cheese. "Fancy," Bilbo muttered, putting everything where it needed to go.

While in the kitchen, he put parkerhouse rolls in the oven and slid the rhubarb pie out onto the counter to cool. 

"Hey Uncle Bilbo, can we do this in the living room?" Frodo leaned into the kitchen. "I'm only asking because your laptop's in there and it's open so you might be working and I don't want to – " 

Bilbo laughed. "Of course. I'll be in my office. Let me just collect my computer and it's all yours. Don't forget to give Fili something to eat and drink."

"Right, he'll want coffee." Frodo started filling the coffee pot while Bilbo gathered his computer and installed himself back in his office. The sounds of excited chatter echoed slightly through the open door and he smiled. 

He settled in with grading the latest set of lab reports, then when those were finished, started working on the homework assignments. After half an hour, he put stuffed pork chops into the oven, taking off the foil on the rolls as he did. On the way back to his office, he stuck his head through the doorway. Three happy faces looked up at him; Fili and Frodo were sitting next to each other on the couch, both with guitars, and Sam sat on the coffee table, reading through what looked like a set of stage playbills.

"Dinner's in about 20 minutes. I hope you're hungry." 

Dinner was filled with enthusiasm. Fili had shown Sam and Frodo the playbills from musicals he'd seen – he'd worked on local productions of some of them, and was encouraging Frodo to find local playhouses and audition. Sam laughed at the idea, but Frodo seemed interested, and Bilbo made a mental note to tell Bella that her sewing skills might be needed again soon.

After dinner, and after Frodo and Sam had cleaned the kitchen, they all ended up in the living room again. 

Frodo stroked the guitar he'd been using. "Thanks for letting me try it," he said to Fili. "It's beautiful." He held it out.

Fili looked startled for a second, then laughed. "Oh, no, kid, that's for you. You'll never get better if you don't practice and I know that – " 

Frodo's eyes were wide and he looked back and forth between Fili and Bilbo. "Can I, you mean I can have it?"

"Sure. I've got lots of them." Fili shrugged, slumping down into a chair. "It's a funny thing, but somehow I've got a collection of guitars. I don't know where half of them come from, actually. That one," he nodded at the one Frodo was cradling close to his chest. "That one came from a second hand shop in New Zealand, actually. I'm glad it'll have a good home."

"Oh it _will_!" Frodo's fingers curled gently around the guitar's neck and he beamed. "Thank you. Uh," he glanced at Sam. "Can we bring the playbills to my room and look up the plays?"

Fili grinned. "Have at it, kid. Those I'll want back, though."

After they charged down the hall into Frodo's room, Bilbo sat down across from Fili. "You really brought that guitar all the way from New Zealand and now you're just giving it to Frodo?"

Fili nodded. "Yeah, actually. I do have a collection – the good ones are insured and rarely go anywhere but on tour – but this is just a basic guitar. We'd been on tour there and had a few days off. Kili likes to go antiquing and we found that, buried in the back." He sipped his wine. "Shipping wasn't an issue – it came home with the band's stuff. Barely weighs anything, really."

Bilbo rubbed his nose. "Well, thank you for the gift. And thank you for giving him an instrument which won't keep us all up while he learns to use it!"

Fili laughed. "No drum sets from me, no problem!"

They were silent for a minute, then Fili sat forward. "So, what _did_ Thorin tell you? And what do you want to know?" He paused for a moment. "Have you heard from him recently?"

Bilbo ran a hand over his face. "I haven't, not recently. The last time we spoke was at the party when Frodo came home." He caught a glimpse of the dragon vase in the glass-fronted cabinet. "Oh, right, but he sent me the bouquet at Valentine's Day."

Fili reached out and squeezed Bilbo's knee gently. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to tell you about that."

Bilbo looked up at him. "What can you tell me about Azog?"


	68. Sixty Eight – What Mysteries the Past Holds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets to look through a window into the past.

Fili sank into his chair slightly. "Not as much as I thought I did," he said, eyes falling away from Bilbo's. "I'd have said I knew everything important, but I asked my mom on my way here and she got tense like I haven't seen since my father died."

Bilbo rubbed his eyes. "So you're telling me you don't know anything."

Fili grinned. "No, not really. I'm saying that I asked my mom and she helped me find that." He gestured toward the door. Bilbo twisted around and saw the satchel, which he'd dropped just inside the door and promptly forgotten about. 

He turned back to Fili. "Your mom helped you find your bag?"

Fili snorted, then drained his wine glass. "No, there's something better. Bring it here?"

Bilbo opened the satchel on his way back to the chairs. There were large heavy leather books in it; the spines had dates printed on them in gold. A few smaller things had fallen to the bottom of the bag. Bilbo sat down on the couch and pulled out the books, inhaling slightly as he realized what they were.

"Photo albums?" He raised his eyebrows at Fili, who'd emptied the wine bottle into their glasses and come to sit next to him on the couch. 

"Yeah," Fili said. "And she told me to tell you to email her." He tugged on the book until it lay between them. "Now, let's see what we can find here." He lifted the cover.

Bilbo took a sip of his wine and watched as Fili flipped through the book. He stopped a few pages in and tapped the page. "There," he said. "My uncle Thorin as a wee tot."

Thorin had been a somber looking child. His unsmiling face gazed suspiciously at the camera, one hand firmly wrapped in the skirts of a woman standing next to him and the other hand holding a stuffed animal of some sort. _His eyes were always that color._

In the next picture, though, he was laughing. He was being held by a man – Bilbo assumed it was his father, but he couldn't be sure – and was leaning around the man's face to look at someone out of the frame. 

Fili laughed. "That's my grandfather. Wasn't Thorin a cutie?"

The next pages had more pictures of Thorin, who was quickly joined by a small blonde boy, then soon after by a little dark-haired girl, who seemed to spend a lot of her time chasing her older brothers. Bilbo grinned at Fili, who snorted. 

Fili turned more pages, but Bilbo stopped him at a picture of Thorin seated on the back of a large stone carving. The stern stone face surrounded by stiff curls gazed sightlessly off to the left, while little Thorin sat along his back, nearly hidden between the curves of the lammasu's wings. 

Bilbo stared at the picture of what Thorin had described. He realized that he hadn't quite believed Thorin; it seemed like such an unlikely story. 

"I've seen those in museums." Fili looked startled. "Mom told me that her grandfather'd had one, but I sort of …" 

"Didn't believe her," Bilbo said. "Thorin told me that he used to sit on the back of this, but it sounded preposterous." After a silent moment, Bilbo felt something stir at the back of his brain. "Hey Fili, do you know _where_ your great grandfather focused his archaeology?"

Fili shook his head. "I don't. Somehow, we didn't talk about him much." 

Bilbo handed the photo album over and stood up. "I'll be right back. I think I remember Thorin saying that his grandfather wrote books – "

"Well yeah, they're in the bookcase at home."

"I'm going to look them up," Bilbo said, coming back into the room with his laptop. "And I'll bet this will answer another question."

With a few keystrokes, Bilbo started reading out titles. " _The Defence of Hattusa._ Where's Hattusa?" He opened another tab and opened google. "Oh, it's in Turkey. Capital of the Hittite Empire. Huh."

Fili looked up from where he'd been paging through the rest of the book. "My great grandmother's Turkish. I'll bet they met there." He leaned forward and showed Bilbo another picture. "This is what we should be looking for, though. This is Azog."

Bilbo turned to look. Teenaged versions of Thorin and Dwalin leant casually against either side of a fireplace mantle. A third young man stood next to Thorin, eyes fixed on Thorin's face. He was shorter than Thorin, with a stocky body and shaggy blond hair. The picture had been taken at Christmas; there were five stockings hanging along the stone edge between Dwalin and Thorin. 

Bilbo looked across the picture and then started laughing. "A mohawk, really?"

Fili laughed. "Yeah, he had it for years. I don't remember exactly when he shaved it off, but I remember Uncle giving him such shit about it."

Bilbo's eyes kept going back to Azog, to the look on his face. He was smiling, but it was sharp edged. After a moment's thought, Bilbo thought that Azog looked avaricious.

Fili had bent over the picture as well. "See, there's something not right with him, even here."

"He looks like a creep," Bilbo said. "But I was wondering about something else. Have you ever heard of Smaug?"

"Writes books, like you?" 

Bilbo's stomach tightened. "Not like me, but yes, he's an author. He says he's from Albania – that he's 'descended from Albanian royalty', whatever that means – but that's not even the important part. He says that archaeologists stole things from his family."

Fili's brows were pulled down. "So you think maybe my great grandfather …"

"Well, he certainly didn't make that lammasu himself." At Fili's confused expression, Bilbo said, "The winged bull-man that Thorin was sitting on."

Fili's expression cleared. "Oh, I wasn't offended at Thror having stolen something, I was just confused. Didn't we just decide he was interested in Hittites and ancient Turkey?"

Bilbo nodded. "That's what's confusing. Maybe he did research in more than one place. Usually people have a focus, though, especially in archaeology." He looked at the picture again, then turned the page.

The rest of that book was more pictures of Thorin and his friends as teenagers. Bilbo set it aside to look at more closely later, then pulled out a thinner book. Its leather was much older and the date on the spine was faded.

The first pictures were old – slightly grainy sepia tone photos with people standing slightly awkwardly, unsure of what exactly they should be doing with themselves. One showed a group of eight or ten people all in a line somewhere desert-like. Bilbo could see the edge of some sort of heavily carved wall just at the edge of the picture. He glanced at Fili, who seemed just as intrigued.

"Huh," Fili said. "That's my great grandfather, Thror." He pointed at a man standing with his arm around a small woman with dark hair pulled up in a soft bun. He was smiling broadly at the camera; his other hand held a hat pressed to his leg. He wore a dark suit which contrasted strongly with the woman's light dress and the light colored clothes of the other men in the picture. 

"Really? Then that's your great grandmother?" He thought for a moment, trying to remember the name Balin had mentioned in his email. "Istar?"

Fili shrugged. "I guess so. I never met them. I've heard some funny stories about them, though." He turned the page, then turned a few more, smiling at the Bilbo's yelp of objection. "I'm leaving these here for you, for a while at least. You can moon over antiques later."

They looked through the old photos for a few more minutes, then Fili yawned. "I'm sorry. I think it's time I went home, though. I'll give my mom your email, okay? She might know more about this than I do."

At the front door, Bilbo shoved a hand in his pocket. "Ah, is Thorin okay with you letting me borrow the albums?"

Fili shouldered his guitar and closed the flap of his satchel over the Playbills. "He doesn't know. He hasn't been home in at least a month." He looked at Bilbo, then sighed. "He's being a real ass about this, and you shouldn't let him get away with it, but I don't think he's any happier about any of whatever's going on." He paused. "Just so we can all be on the same page, what _is_ going on between you two?"

Bilbo huffed a laugh. "I'm not even sure myself. Things were … well, they were better than I could have imagined anything could be with someone – with a lover. And then we got the news that my cousins died on their boat and suddenly Thorin sort of faded away." Bilbo looked away from the compassion on Fili's face. "People keep telling me that he's being an asshole – " He smiled at Fili's self-deprecating small bow, and continued. "But honestly, it's not unreasonable for a person to realize that they don't really care about someone as much as they thought they did or that the relationship isn't what they really want or need. And I have Frodo, you know, it's not as if I'm able to go flying off with no notice to wherever Thorin gets the urge to go."

They were silent for a minute, then Bilbo sighed and wrapped his arms tightly over his chest. "So I don't actually blame him for any of this. I just wish there weren't so much odd leftover business with Azog and Smaug. I mean, when my last boyfriend dumped me, at least I didn't have to deal with his crazy ex."

Fili's expression was thoughtful. "I don't think he doesn't love you and I don't think he decided that being with you isn't what he wants. I think there's something else going on."

Bilbo closed his eyes. "I understand that you think you're being helpful, but if he wanted to be here, Fili, he _would be._ He's an adult and well able to go where he wants to, so if he's in Europe with someone else, it's because that's where he wants to be. Pretending to me that he's staying away for some reason that's so secret that he can't tell me is just … well, it's unhelpful at best. I'm _okay_ with not being who he wants. I mean, I didn't expect him to want me in the first place."

Fili opened his mouth, then clearly thought better of whatever he was going to say. "Well, at least you've made good friends out of it, right?"

***

Bilbo didn't look at the books for the next two days, spending most of that time prepping for finals and trying to keep up with the latest batch of committee meetings. Tuesday evening, he found Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin in the living room, looking through the book of antique photos.

"Hey, who's this?" Merry was looking at a picture of a short woman, wrapped in layers of what must have been brightly colored fabric, if the cameras had been capable of recording it. She was laughing at whoever was holding the camera and had one hand propped on her hip with her other hand pointing out of the frame. 

Bilbo looked closely. "I think her name is Istar. She's Thorin's grandmother." He looked at Frodo. "I don't remember giving you permission to look at these."

Frodo looked sheepish. "I'm sorry – they were just sitting here and we were curious." He glanced down at the book in his lap. "And then once we saw who was in the pictures, we … well, we kept looking. Who's the blond guy who's with Thorin all the time?"

Bilbo felt a chill race down his back. "That's Azog." 

All four boys sucked in a breath, then clustered around Frodo to look at the picture. Pippin was the first to comment. 

"He looks like a bonehead." At Sam's snort, he said, "What? He does. He's in a bunch of the pictures in that book as well and he's always looking at Thorin like he thinks he owns him. It's just gross."

Bilbo shook his head. "Don't take the pictures out, don't take pictures of them, don't put copies on the internet. They're _not yours_. They're not mine, either, so if you want to remain welcome in this house, remember that." He glared indiscriminately around the room and nodded sharply at their smiles.

After dinner, Bilbo expected the four boys to end up in Frodo's room, playing more of their game, but they went back to the living room and sat looking at the photo albums. Bilbo shrugged and went to his office to do more grading. 

That evening, when Bilbo stuck his head into Frodo's room to tell him to go to bed, Frodo stopped him. "That's the guy who had his followers stalk you?"

Bilbo sat on the edge of Frodo's bed. "Looks like it, yeah. I think that's stopped, if you're worried about it. He was only interested in me when Thorin was, so …"

Frodo crossed his arms, then uncrossed them and laced his fingers together. "I'm not worried about it. I just wonder – if they knew each other when they were kids, why he's so weird about who Thorin dates. I mean, it looked like he and Thorin dated and broke up, so why …"

Bilbo sighed. "Sometimes people don't let go well. I – this isn't really any of our business, you know."

Frodo glared at him. "When Thorin chose to dump us because we had bad things happen, it kind of makes it our business, especially when being with him meant you had people following you around."

Bilbo pressed his lips together. "So it looks like Azog was emotionally abusive when they were about your age. From what I've heard from other people, Azog was possessive from before they were dating, and when they went to college, things got worse. Apparently he tried to make Thorin stop being friends with Dwalin and with anyone who wasn't Azog."

Frodo's expression hadn't changed. "What does that have to do with Thorin dumping you because of my – because things weren't perfect?"

"Nothing specific, but it has everything to do with why Azog has people follow around anyone who Thorin's dating. And …" Bilbo sat up a little. "And it could explain some of why Thorin broke up with me. He knew that Azog was going to be paying attention to us, and that wasn't really a good time for us to have any outside attention, so maybe he left to protect us."

"That's a fucking stupid reason."

Bilbo smiled. "Well, maybe, but it's better than thinking that he just decided we were too much bother, right?"

"I’m not sure." Frodo's expression had cleared, though, so Bilbo stood back up and ruffled Frodo's hair.

"Get to bed, kiddo. School tomorrow morning." He was nearly out of the room when Frodo said something that pulled him back.

"Merry thinks that Azog stole something from Thorin's grandfather. There was a big stone on one of the bookshelves in some of the pictures and then it was gone."


	69. Sixty Nine – Travel Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Would _you_ travel across the country with four teenagers and only three adults?

Bilbo and Frodo sat in the living room, the photo album open on the coffee table in front of them. 

"See?" Frodo pointed at a set of pictures. _Christmas 1980_ was written in careful pen on a slip of paper below one of the photos. There was a large decorated tree in the background of all of the pictures, and Thorin was laughing with a group of kids – all of whom appeared to be about Frodo's age now. Bilbo only recognized Azog in the group and he wondered where Dwalin was, or if this was after Azog had started trying to push everyone away from Thorin.

"There," Frodo said, pointing to a picture in which Thorin and one of the other kids were standing in front of the camera; each had one hand pressed to their heart and the other outstretched toward the camera, palms up and fingers extended. 

"It's Thorin," Bilbo said. "And someone I don't know."

Frodo sighed as if Bilbo was being deliberately obtuse. "Look there, in the back." He tapped the picture and Bilbo bent forward to look closely. Beyond the Christmas tree was a wall made up entirely of bookshelves. Most of the shelves were filled with books, but some had trinkets – vases or other decorative things – in between the books. Azog's back was to the camera and he was half-obscuring something that looked like a large glass box.

Bilbo turned to Frodo. "I still don't see it. Sure, that's Azog, but why does that mean he's stolen something?"

Frodo pointed to one of the earlier pictures. "That box has a large stone in it. It's in the background, so we couldn't tell what color it is. Pippin says it's white, but Sam thought that might just be a reflection on the glass case. No matter what, it's definitely a large stone and it's in a case." Frodo looked a little less certain of himself than he had in his bedroom. "And it's not there after Azog was in front of it."

Bilbo looked at the pictures, thoughfully. _Well, what do you know. Azog has Smaug's Arkenstone. I wonder if he knows._ "No, kiddo, I think you're right. I wonder why he took it and what he did with it."

The next morning Bilbo heard Frodo leave for school, then he rolled over in bed and fell back asleep. He woke up again later and lay looking at the way the light from the morning sun lit the corner of the room and spilled across the floor. With a groan, he stretched his arms and legs, filling the whole bed. 

"Time to get up," he muttered. "I'm sure there's something I need to get done. Maybe I can clean the house and pretend that I don't need to grade the rest of the lab reports." 

He spent his breakfast grading while he ate, then brought the reports and his coffee to the living room to finish. When he'd finished the lab reports for the past two weeks, he got more coffee and opened his laptop to check his email. 

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From:Gandalf.Sijed_

_My dear Bilbo,_

_Thank you for your efforts in convincing Dr Jarnnave to instruct for us. He'll be teaching a fascinating seminar series over the first three weeks of next quarter. I have him working with Michael on what our current crop of graduate students is focusing on – do you think you could email Michael and contribute to that?_

_Also, I'm looking forward to our engagement at the end of this month. I'm certain that Lobelia will be a lovely bride._

_Gandalf  
_

"I didn't get Balin to teach for us, you old coot." Bilbo shook his head. "I will talk to Michael, though. It would be interesting to see if we can get some of the physics kids as well." He thought for a moment.

_To: Gandalf.Sijed  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Gandalf,_

_I'll ask my mother to confirm, but if I were you, I'd assume you're staying with us for the weekend. I know mom will love seeing you. I'm not sure Lobelia will feel quite the same, but I'm sure she'll appreciate the effort._

_As for the lecture series, can I invite students from other universities? I know a few who might be interested._

_Bilbo  
_

After a moment, Bilbo realized he was staring at the email from Dwalin that he'd never finished. "Oh fuck," he said. "I can't put this off any more."

_I can't prove it, of course, but the murder definitely happened and Azog's brothers are in prison for it. They never managed to pin any of it on him – he's a slick shitbag, I'll give him that – but I know for a fucking fact that he'd threatened Thorin._

_He came home one day, white as a sheet, and said that he had to stop seeing anyone else, that Azog wouldn't let him go. They'd been up by the old bridge and, well, Thorin never did tell me all of what happened, but he made Thrain's old dog stay inside for the rest of that visit._

_I think it was the murder, and the fact that Azog got away with it, that made Thorin finally break up with him for good. He's never been the same since, though. It took him years to date anyone at all. You're the first person he's been serious about since Heather. Hell, I thought he'd given up entirely._

_We were all so happy he met you. He's had a hard time and it'll be nice for him to finally have something – and someone – worthwhile. I'm not sure why he's acting like this. I'd have thought he'd never leave you alone. Just in case, you know._

_He hasn't been back to Lysander since then, I'm sure of it. His father's moved there full time, though, and I know Dis goes to visit him. I don't know if the boys have been back recently, but I'm pretty sure they've visited._

_I know Balin's coming to teach out there for you. Let me know if there's anything I can do.._

_Dwalin  
_

Bilbo leaned back, ran a hand over his face, then deliberately closed the email and shut his laptop. "Time to go to work."

He spent the afternoon in the lab on campus, working through a several stage reflux, trying to purify the compound he and Ori had been working with. Ori came in, a few hours in, and began working on his own part of the process. Bilbo heard him muttering to himself as he worked.

Finally, Bilbo looked up. "How'd it get to be dinner time so fast?"

Ori wrinkled his nose. "Dunno. What're you doing for dinner?" He made a last note in his lab book and straightened, twisting his back to stretch it out. "When did I get old?"

Bilbo laughed. "According to Nori, you were born old." He stretched, himself. "I'm thinking of making it leftover night for dinner. I'm tired, there are yet more things to grade, and there's a ton of leftover food. What about you?"

Ori leaned forward and checked part of his glass tower; the greenish liquid inside shivered. "I don't know. Bofur's at his monthly Family Dinner, so I'm on my own."

"Come help us defeat Leftover Mountain," Bilbo said. 

After dinner, Ori and Bilbo sat in the living room with a pot of tea and slices of seed cake. "Hey," Ori said. "What're those?" He pointed at the old photo albums.

Bilbo showed him the old pictures and they laughed at how hairstyles had changed over the years. Then Bilbo showed him the pictures that Frodo and his friends had found, of Azog stealing the Arkenstone.

A little later, Ori sat back, staring at Bilbo. "So you're telling me that they're all connected, somehow? That Smaug's family trinket was stolen by Thorin's grandfather, and then by Azog? And now it's missing?"

Bilbo nodded and stood up. "I'll get us more tea."

Ori looked at his phone and stood up as well. "Not for me, thanks. I've got to get home." At the door, he turned back. "You know, Azog seems worse and worse, the more I hear about him."

Bilbo stuck his hands in his pockets. "You don't know the half of it. Apparently, he had his brothers kill some boy so that Thorin would stop dating that boy's sister." 

At Ori's stunned expression, Bilbo snorted out a laugh. "Yeah, it sounds too weird to be true, doesn't it? But it explains a lot about how Thorin's been acting. I'm not sure it explains enough, though."

Ori swallowed hard. "Yeah, that's a bit much. Um." He looked outside at the quiet cul-de-sac outside Bilbo's front door. "But you're safe here, right?"

Bilbo nodded. "Most likely. I'm sure he could get my home address… " He trailed off, suddenly thinking of the large, but still anonymous bouquet he'd gotten at Valentine's Day.

"What?" Ori looked increasingly spooked.

"I was just thinking – the second bouquet I got. I wonder if that could have been Azog. I dismissed it, because it seemed unreasonable for him to have spent the kind of money it would take to buy that vase, but if he's the sort to randomly steal things …"

Ori shook his head. "I don't know. None of this really makes sense."

"True. And you should go home to your nice boyfriend. I'll see you tomorrow."

On Friday, Bilbo got an email from Fili, asking if he and Kili could come for dinner because they had a question for him. He immediately said yes, and then drove to the fancier of the Berkeley based grocery stores to stock up. 

After dinner, Frodo was disappointed that they weren't going back to his room to talk more about music, but Fili promised he'd come and listen to Frodo on his new guitar. 

Fili sat down, then leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "So," he said, looking seriously at Bilbo. "I've been thinking. Has Frodo been to any Broadway shows?"

Bilbo blinked. "I don't think so. Why?"

"Because there are some really interesting ones on right now and I'd love to take him to see them." 

Kili had been sitting and paging through the photo albums, but then he looked up. "Oi, it wouldn't just be you, you know. We're coming along."

Fili smiled. "Right."

Bilbo looked back and forth between them. "But that's in New York. Or, are they doing some of those filmed versions, like they do at the Met?"

Fili sat up straighter. "I think I'm not saying this right. We'd like to take Frodo, and maybe one or two of his friends, to New York, to see a couple of Broadway shows and so he can see what real plays are like. And also so I can have him talk to my old advisor at Juilliard."

Bilbo stared. "I, what? When? And I can't let you – I mean, that's very kind, but…"

Kili set aside the book he was looking at. "We'd love to, really. And we checked – spring break is coming up, so it wouldn't even be like he's missing school."

"But the cost!"

Fili shrugged. "Ticket prices aren't that bad, really, and food there isn't much more expensive than food here. And it'll give us something to do while the band's on break and Thorin's gone walk-about."

Bilbo ran a hand down the back of his neck. "What about a hotel? The airfare?"

Kili looked up from the book on his lap. "We'd be staying at our house, and airfare's not so much. And really, _you'd_ be saving _us_."

Bilbo felt his eyebrows rise. "Really. In what way would having you take my nephew across the country on an all-expenses paid trip to see Broadway shows be me saving _you_?"

Fili grinned. "If we don't have something to occupy us, we get into trouble. We're perfectly good if we have a task, but without one, we've been known to repaint houses in puce and fuchsia. One time we put glitter in a hundred balloons, filled them with helium, then filled Uncle Dwalin's room with them."

Bilbo burst into laughter. "That's … oh dear. How long did it take to get the glitter out?"

Kili smirked. "It's not gone. Every so often, at Uncle's house, I still find some. It's great."

"Well, given that it's a rescue operation, I guess I can let you guys bring Frodo. I insist on contributing, though."

Fili laughed. "That's really not necessary. I know how much a college professor makes, and even with the added money from the advances from your books, it's not as much as we've got saved up. Trust me," he finished his cup of tea. "We can cover it."

When he was called into the living room and asked if he'd like to go to New York, Frodo looked between all of the adults, then sank slowly down into a chair. "Really? That would be … oh wow, that would be so fucking cool. Sam'll be so jealous."

Kili and Fili glanced at each other, then Kili said, "Would you like to bring him?"

Bilbo started to say something, but Fili shook his head. 

"I'd love to, wow, can I really? Let me ask him!" Frodo pulled out his phone and bent over it, fingers moving quickly on the screen. After a moment, he glanced up. "He says yes, he wants to go."

Bilbo stood up and rubbed his nose. "That was fast. He hasn't asked his parents yet. Tell him to have them come over so we can talk about it." He walked to the kitchen and unlocked the back door. "I'll make more tea."

An hour later, the plan had expanded, to Bilbo, Bell, and Hamfast's horror, to potentially include Merry and Pippin and Rosie. Under some protest, Bilbo sent emails to their parents, asking if they had plans for the upcoming Spring Break and if not, if they'd be willing for their child to go on a supervised, very personal, visit to New York and Broadway.

Three days later, Bilbo leaned back and shook his head. "I don't think you know what you're getting yourselves into, bringing this bunch with only three adults."

Tauriel smiled at him from the other side of Kili, who was draped over his couch, still looking through the photo albums. 

"Oh," she said. "I think Legolas and Gimli were discussing coming along. That brings the ratio to a much more reasonable level, don't you think?"


	70. Seventy – Finals Week is Always Chaotic. At least they all have something fun to look forward to.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo and crew are off to New York, leaving poor Bilbo to deal with the oncoming wedding.

Bilbo spent the next week dealing with non-stop finals preparation. The organic chemistry students seemed to think that he had nothing better to do with his time than answer questions they should already know the answers to; locking his lab door behind himself was the only way to get some relief. 

Ori wasn't quite as swamped, but his office hours, which were usually rather empty, had filled up with students. One afternoon, he came tearing into Bilbo's office, his expression slightly panicked.

"Uhm, Bilbo? What's the policy on student and teacher interaction?" Ori leaned against the closed door as if ensuring it _stayed_ closed.

Bilbo tilted his head in Ori's direction, but didn't take his eyes off the papers he was reading. "What? Do you need to come over for dinner again?"

"I just got an email from one of the girls in my lab? She says she wants to meet on Saturday at a coffee shop or something, to talk about her grade and how she's doing in lab, and then she said that I shouldn't respond to that email account, because it's, um – " He broke off and flapped one of his hands. "I think she said that it's not private. Only, I'm pretty sure she's got a girlfriend and I know she's said that the girlfriend is possessive and…"

Bilbo had turned all the way around and stared up at Ori. "Take a breath. Ori. Sit down." He pointed at the little couch he had against the wall. When Ori had collapsed into it, he leaned forward.

"Let's start with the simple things. Meeting outside of your usual office hours is fine, but I don't think that meeting off-campus is a good idea. I know you know that, but I thought I should just say it up front." He thought for a second. "Okay, second, how _is_ she doing in class?"

Ori wrapped his arms around his chest. "She's … well, she could be doing better. I think she's not studying. She spends a lot of her time sort of staring. At me." He ducked his head. "I didn't think anything of it, but I now I'm worried."

Bilbo nodded. "Welcome to teaching, aren't you having fun?" He chuckled at Ori's glare and shook his head. "What I think you should do – what _I_ would do – is reply to the email account she used and just say that you can't meet outside of regular school times or off-campus. Don't say anything else, just make this about your standard meeting policy."

"But … the girlfriend?"

"Not your problem." Bilbo paused, watching the emotions play over Ori's face. "Look, how old is this girl? Twenty, at most? Not much younger than you, sure, but both still young and an adult and well old enough to be responsible for her own behavior. It's important that you not contribute to any lying or underhanded activity between her and her partners. That includes being visibly uninvolved in any 'secrets'."

Ori stared at him, then closed his mouth and nodded. "Okay, but if I get murdered, I'm going to haunt you forever."

Bilbo laughed. "Fair enough. Have you graded the last set of lab quizzes yet?"

Ori covered his face with his hands. "I'm _leaving_ now. Clearly I'm just going to be threatened everywhere I go!" He dropped his hands and grinned. "What're you doing over the break? I wish the break between winter quarter and spring quarter was longer. One week isn't enough time."

Bilbo groaned. "I'm going to Lobelia's wedding." He rubbed his nose. "I'm bringing Gandalf as my Plus One."

Ori snorted, then started laughing until he fell over on the couch. From his side, he said, "Oh dear. I'm so sorry. I mean, that sounds like lots of fun." He lay there for a moment, watching Shelob shift things in her glass tank, then he shifted until he was lying a little more on his back. "Is Frodo not going?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Fili and Kili – Thorin's … oh right, you know them. Anyway," Bilbo shook his head. "So, Fili and Kili wanted to take Frodo to New York to see a couple of Broadway shows and to talk to Fili's teachers at Juilliard. Somehow, it's turned into the entire Mayhem squad going, as well as Tauriel and probably Gimli and Legolas."

Ori struggled upright and raised his eyebrows. "That's … wow, Fili and Kili think that it's a good idea to bring _Merry and Pippin_ to New York? Have they _met_ them?"

Bilbo ran a hand through his hair. "I'm unconvinced, but really, how much trouble can they get into? There are five adults, so it's a one to one ratio, and Gimli's hard to impress. I mean, he's unlikely to go along with any of their wilder plans."

Ori stood up. "All of a sudden, my own problems don't seem so bad. I'm going back out into the fray. Don't forget your three o'clock class."

As the door closed behind Ori, Bilbo looked at his watch. _2:30. I've got time for one more thing._

Frodo spent the week before the flight planning the whole trip. He and Fili were emailing a lot; Bilbo was impressed at how seriously Frodo seemed to be taking the visit. Even Merry and Pippin seemed more invested than Bilbo expected – while they had always been friends with Frodo, they hadn't previously been particularly interested in any of his musical ideas. 

The weekend before finals week at the university, Frodo had all of them over for a giant sleep-over. Bilbo made two roast chickens for dinner and, after dinner, sat in the living room listening to the snatches of conversation rolling down the hall.

" … how can we get there if it's not connected to the banks any more?" Pippin sounded plaintive and Bilbo wondered what was going on in their game. He smiled and turned back to his book. He'd managed to catch up on all his back grading as well as finishing writing all the final exams and was taking the opportunity to relax by reading something frivolous and fictional. 

Finals week was chaos. Bilbo was on campus all day. He'd offered broader office hours to help the students who needed it and was pleased to see so many coming for help, even though it meant he was very tired – and talked out – by the end of the day. He overheard Fatima say that she had three finals in one day and shook his head, impressed that she could be as cheerful as she was. 

On Wednesday, he stayed home and worked on grading the tests. Frodo came home from school and came into his office.

"Bilbo? What should I pack? I mean, it'll be cold, right? Fili says that I won't have to dress up for the plays, but I'm not sure." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Sam and I were thinking of asking Fili if we could take Rosie to a play with just the three of us. Like, if they could take Pippin and Merry to something else and we could, I don't know. Have a fancy date."

Bilbo smiled up at Frodo's earnest expression. _Dammit, Prim, I wish you were here._ "That sounds like a lovely idea. I'm sure Fili would do that. If he asks, tell him I'm in favor of it – or he can just email me. As for what to wear, have you checked the weather online?"

Frodo shook his head. "No." He didn't move and Bilbo leaned back in his chair, watching his face. 

"What's up, kid?"

Frodo heaved a sigh and looked away from Bilbo. "Nothing. Are those tests?"

"Inorganic Chemistry. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I'll go check the weather now." He slouched out of the room and down the hall. 

Bilbo stared at the empty door, then shrugged and turned back to his work. An hour later, Frodo returned.

"All I need is outer stuff. Coat and hat and scarf and gloves." 

Without turning around, Bilbo said, "I've got some in the hall closet. There's a box up on the shelf with scarves and hats and either mittens or gloves. I can't remember which – my mom made me several sets a few years ago. As for the jacket, take the heavy black wool one. It's very warm."

Frodo disappeared again, this time heading down the hall to the front door. A little while later, Bilbo heard him trooping back down the hall. "Hey Frodo," he called.

Frodo stuck his head in the door. "Yeah?"

"Don't pack the jacket and stuff in your checked bag. Wear it all onto the plane. It'll save you space in your bags, and you'll have it as soon as you need it when you get there."

Friday morning, Bilbo made a large breakfast for himself and Frodo. After breakfast, they gathered up Sam, then Bilbo drove them all to San Francisco airport, where they met up with Merry and Pippin, who appeared to be so excited they were levitating, and their mothers, who were sitting at one of the banks of chairs for people waiting for incoming flights. After a few minutes, Gimli arrived, looking harried. 

"Good god," he said, standing next to Bilbo and watching the antics of the boys as they stood just outside the line to check their bags. "Can we wring them out and use the energy?"

"We could fix the whole energy crisis if we could harness the energy of teenagers." Bilbo grinned at him. "How'd finals go?"

Gimli groaned. "I think I did okay, but seriously, some people just shouldn't be teachers. If you can't explain something clearly, then you shouldn't fucking try to educate others." He tugged on his hair and grimaced. "I think I need coffee. Want anything?"

While he was gone, Tauriel and Legolas showed up. "Hello," Legolas said. "Gimli off getting coffee?" At Bilbo's nod, he pulled out his phone. "Tauriel, do you want him to get you anything?"

"No, thank you," she said. "I'll wait until we're through security." She and Legolas looked cool and collected, in direct contrast to most of the other travelers in the ticketing area. She smiled at Bilbo. "Are you looking forward to your free time?"

Bilbo snorted. "Sort of. I know it's silly, but I'm worried about him – about all of them – being so far away." He nodded at her sympathetic smile. "I never expected to be a parent, and yet here I am."

Frodo had joined them and wrapped an arm around Bilbo's shoulders. "We'll be fine. I'm worried about you, going to Lobelia's wedding."

Tauriel looked curiously from Frodo's amused face to Bilbo's sour expression. "Do we not like this Lobelia?"

"Ah, there they are," Legolas said, and started walking to where Bilbo could see Fili's bright hair pushing through the crowd.

He turned back to Tauriel. "She's my cousin, sort of, and she used to be a professor at my college. She's … difficult." He elbowed Frodo when he snorted, then continued. "We grew up together and she was always angry about something. Usually she was angry _at_ someone – often me, for no reason I could ever figure out. Anyway, she's getting married tomorrow and I have to go."

" _Darling!_ " Kili said, throwing himself into Tauriel's arms dramatically. "I thought we'd never find you."

She laughed down at him and Bilbo suddenly noticed that she was at least six inches taller than Kili was. "We're exactly where we said we'd meet you, you goofball."

"Wait for me!" They all turned to see Rosie, scurrying ahead of her mother. It was hard to see Rosie inside the huge, vivid purple down jacket she had on. Behind her, Lily dragged a small rolling case and a larger soft-sided suitcase. 

"We're not too late, right? We haven't missed it?" Rosie's face was pinched with anxiety as she looked from Fili to Kili. "It took me longer than I expected to get, um, everything packed."

Fili beamed at her. "No trouble at all. Now we're all here, let's get in line."

Half an hour later, Bilbo stood with Lily, Eglantine, and Esmerelda and waved goodbye as they passed through the security gate. 

"Well," said Eglantine briskly. "That's that, then. They'll be back on the Saturday, right?"

"That's the plan," Lily said, still watching security. "I hope she remembered her gloves."

Bilbo had arranged to meet Gandalf in Hobbiton, so after leaving the airport, he drove into San Francisco and stopped for lunch at one of his favorite small diners. It was near the beach, but not on it, so it wasn't as over priced as many of the beachfront restaurants. He read a little as he ate, but gave up about halfway through the meal and watched people through the large windows.

The drive up to his parents house was easy, with no real traffic. When he pulled in, Gandalf's car, a grey electric car, was already parked in the drive.

That evening, Bilbo leaned back and watched as Gandalf, Bella, and Bungo talked about old times. They'd never really explained to him how they knew each other, but he'd seen Gandalf every so often when he was growing up. 

"So," Gandalf said, crossing his legs and taking a sip from the large tea-mug in his hands. "I've brought the last bits of my present to Lobelia. I wouldn't want her to think that we in the department don't wish her well."

Bungo looked up from the field notes he was transcribing into a large notebook. "The rest of it is in the back shed. We've kept them well wrapped, so the rain we've been having shouldn't have got in."

"What did you get them?" Bilbo tried to remember if anything from Lobelia's very specific gift registry could possibly be safer in a shed than in a well-wrapped box. "I got them a bread maker. It seemed safe."

Gandalf smiled at him. "Entirely. I purchased one of the sets of tableware she requested, but I've made her a special gift, something which will, I'm certain, make her wedding a memorable and exciting experience."


	71. Seventy One – The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weddings are always weird social occasions, but at least there's food, right?

Bilbo and his family – and Gandalf – ate a leisurely breakfast, then dressed for the wedding. Bilbo felt very dapper in his suit, but when he saw Gandalf, he started laughing.

"Are you really wearing that?" 

Gandalf looked down at himself, then smiled at Bilbo, eyes sparkling. "Why yes, of course. Don't you think it's appropriate?" Gandalf was wearing a three piece suit in a rich charcoal grey wool, but the coat was cut like a chemist's lab coat, long and boxy. With a sly grin, he showed Bilbo that the coat even had the gaps in the side seams so he could reach inside the coat and reach his pants pockets.

Bilbo shook his head, smiling. "I might have to get something like that. It's quite, um, unique." He heard his parents coming downstairs and stepped to the side, waiting for their reaction. 

Bella took the boutonniers she'd made from the fridge and carefully pinned them to Bungo's and Bilbo's jackets, then pinned her own to the lapel of her own dark brown coat. She handed Gandalf his and nodded approvingly as he attached it to the chest pocket of the 'lab' coat.

"Now," she said briskly, "are we all ready?"

Ath the door of the church in Hobbiton, they were greeted by a young Bracegirdle boy, dressed in dark green slacks and a light green shirt. He held a stack of small wedding programs. To Bilbo, he looked about twelve.

"Good afternoon, Hob," said Bella.

"Afternoon," he replied, smiling up at her. "How was your morning, ma'am?"

They chatted for a few minutes, Bungo questioning him about something growing in his father's back field, when an older boy stuck his head through the door. "What's the hold up?" he asked, looking at Gandalf, who nodded back, companionably.

The younger boy jumped then turned back to Bella. "Um, bride or groom?"

Bilbo heard Gandalf snort, and he tried to look anywhere but his father's face.

"I think," Bungo said, sounding deeply amused, "neither." 

The boy gaped at him, and Bungo sighed. "Well, I'm not sitting on Lobelia' side, so I guess I'm groom."

Gandalf swept forward. "I would hate for our dear Lobelia to feel slighted. I am entirely on her side." He paused. "I mean, I will be delighted to sit with the bride's family." 

Bella smiled up at him and tucked her hand into his arm. "I'll sit with you," she said, taking two of the programs from the boy. They stepped calmly through the church doors, leaving Bilbo and Bungo looking at each other.

Bilbo laughed. "I guess we're sitting with Otho's family, dad. At least this way it's balanced."

The inside of the church looked like a ribbon factory had exploded in it, followed quickly by a fast-growing floral infection. The pews had large bows in wide bright buttercup yellow ribbon overlaid with several pieces of narrower green lace ribbon. The tails of the bows draped several inches onto the floor. Also on each pew was a loop of wide green ribbon with little yellow pearls dangling from the edge. Clustered in the center of each bow was a pygmy sunflower tied with trailing English Ivy.

Bungo sighed, shook his head, and walked to the front of the church, nodding at several people who'd arrived before they had. He slid into the pew second back from the front and settled in comfortably.

Bilbo sank down beside him; when he looked around, he was surprised to see that Gandalf and Bella had sat down in the very front pew of Lobelia's side. Lobelia's mother looked sour, but Bella and Gandalf were smiling as they chatted, so Bilbo gave up trying to figure out if it was just Primrose's normal look, or if his mother had said something particularly sharp.

Bungo followed his glance, then shook his head. "Best not to get involved," he said, smiling at Bilbo. "When your mother gets her teeth into that woman, there's no telling what'll go flying."

Bilbo leaned back and looked at the stained glass window at the top of the front wall. The early spring sunlight wasn't quite strong enough to make it glow the way it would in summer, but the colors were still soothing after the raucous yellow and green of the decorations.

His phone buzzed and he slipped it out of his pocket. Bungo eyed him, pausing the game he was playing on his own phone. "Don't forget to turn the sound off on that," Bungo said.

Bilbo snorted. "Thanks for the reminder."

_From: Fili_  
_To: Bilbo  
[3 attachments]_

_Hey! Look at the kids all dressed up! Early dinner out, then Hamilton tonight. Wish us luck?_  


Bilbo opened the first of the attached pictures and saw Frodo and his friends, all dressed in nice clothes that he knew they hadn't packed. _Oh god, tell me they haven't bought the kids clothes._ He moved the picture from side to side, looking at all of them. They were clustered together; Merry had thrown himself backwards across the group, so Pippin and Sam were holding him up by the shoulders. They were all laughing and Bilbo smiled, feeling something in his chest squeeze at the sight of Frodo – and his friends – off learning to be young adults without him. 

He opened the second picture and saw Frodo standing with Sam wearing matching dark suits. Between them, Rosie glowed in a brilliant rose pink dress with a short ruffly skirt. Her hands were hooked into both of their elbows. Sam smiled broadly at the camera, but Frodo was looking down at Rosie. The expression on his face made Bilbo think, suddenly, of Thorin and he pulled in a slow breath.

The third picture had been taken by someone else, someone not in the group, because everyone was in it; Fili, Kili, and Tauriel were standing on the left and Gimli stood with Legolas on the right and in the center of the frame were all five teenagers. 

"What's that?" Bungo had glanced up again. Bilbo turned the phone, showing him the pictures. They were interrupted by someone squeezing past them, glaring when they didn't move immediately. When they sat back down, Bungo handed the phone back to Bilbo, saying, "They're getting so grown up."

_From: Bilbo  
To: Fili_

_Wow. You all look amazing. Please tell me you didn't buy them all clothes..?  
_

The church was filling up, but Bilbo took several pictures of the decorations. He sent them to Frodo, asking if he was sure he didn't want to come to the wedding after all. Frodo's single word response made him laugh out loud.

Eventually, the organist started playing and the wedding party quieted. Bilbo could see Primrose smiling at Otho and wondered if she was happy that Lobelia was getting what she wanted or happy that Lobelia would be moving out of her house to live with someone else. 

When Bilbo looked at Otho, he had to bite his lips together from the inside to stay silent. Otho was wearing a grass green tuxedo tailcoat, with darker green tuxedo pants and a pale mint green ruffled shirt. Bilbo turned to his father and leaned in close. " _Green?_ " he whispered.

Bungo nodded. "It appears so. How unusual." 

The music changed, the doors opened, and Falco Chubb-Baggins strode in with a woman Bilbo didn't recognize on his arm. He was wearing a green tuxedo as well, similar to Otho's, but less elaborate and she was wearing a yellow dress with a wide ruffled skirt. At the front of the aisle, they separated and stood facing the rear doors. Several other couples followed them, then a boy carrying an ornate pillow with two very sparkly rings tied to the center. Finally three little girls, wearing identical shiny green dresses and carrying large wicker baskets twined with yellow and green ribbons came through the doors. 

They walked slowly up the aisle, dropping flower petals as they went. One of them, the smallest one, fell a little behind and after glancing right and left a bit, began throwing handfuls of her petals in the air instead of carefully sprinkling them. Bilbo heard a few giggles as the little girl made it to the front and stood next to one of the adults; Bilbo noticed that she reached up and held hands with the woman she was standing next to. 

With an internal smile, Bilbo took a quick picture of the bridesmaids and groomsmen. _Frodo and Ori will like that._

There was a pause, then the music changed again to the familiar strain of the Bridal Chorus. Lobelia came through the doors, her hand linked into her father's elbow. His tuxedo was black, but he had on a bright green waistcoat. Lobelia's white dress overflowed with frills and Bilbo wondered how she could walk inside it. 

At the altar, Longo handed Lobelia to Otho and sat down next to his wife. Bilbo made sure to take a picture of Lobelia, a sea of white ruffles, surrounded by the bright yellow and green at the altar.

_From: Bilbo_  
_To: Frodo  
[2 attachments]_

_Hey kiddo, here's what it looks like. What do you think?_  


_From: Frodo  
To: Bilbo_

_Those colors are awful. What was she thinking? Merry and Pippin say to tell you thanks for getting them out of going.  
_

The rest of the ceremony was traditional, and Bilbo divided the time between watching the other people in the church and reading a scientific paper on his phone. When Mendelssohn's March started, he dropped his phone into his pocket and stood with everyone else to watch as Otho and Lobelia walked back down the aisle. 

She saw him and her expression changed, for a fleeting second, from smug pleasure to narrow-eyed anger. He nodded and smiled at her, and she swept away to the doors, her head held very high.

The reception was held in Longo and Camillia's home. Bilbo noticed his mother and Gandalf checking on something in the trunk of the car but deliberately ignored it. _If I pretend I don't know anything about whatever mischief they're planning, maybe I won't get involved in it._

He was relieved to see that the after-wedding meal wasn't formal; there were large tables set out around the edges of a room, laden with a wide variety of food. He filled a plate, then, remembering Pippin and Merry at the New Year party, took a picture of the food tables and the huge wedding cake and went to sit down. 

He was one of the first ones seated, and found, to his amusement, that the other guests avoided his table. As he ate, he texted.

_From: Bilbo_  
_To: Frodo  
[2 attachments]_

_What do you guys think of the spread?_  


"Well, isn't this lovely," his mother said, sitting down next to him. "Thank you for holding a table for us." Next to her, Bungo set down his own plate and glass.

"The ceremony was lovely," Gandalf said, sitting opposite Bungo and tucking his napkin into his lap. "I especially enjoyed the flower girls."

Bilbo smiled around a mouthful of food. "Who was the littlest one? She looked like fun."

Bella laughed. "Oh, she's actually a Proudfoot, I think. Her mother was one of the bridesmaids – and what do you think of the colors she chose?" Bella sat up straight, face suddenly very serious. "It's just like Lobelia, to pick a color no one can wear."

Bilbo caught Bungo's rolled eyes and smiled. "I don't know mom, I thought there was a rule somewhere about bridesmaid dresses being required to be awful?"

Gandalf nodded wisely. "It was part of the Regulatory Commission on Social Gatherings, in 1845, I believe. That was also when the only two acceptable pieces of music were chosen and, I believe, when they closed the loophole allowing fewer than four attendants for each side." 

"Been to a lot of weddings, have you?" Bungo grinned at Gandalf, who only tipped his head gravely, while his eyes twinkled.

_From: Frodo  
To: Bilbo_

_Well, the food looks good. I'm still happy to be here instead of there. I took some pictures from when we were waiting for the play to start.  
_

_From: Bilbo  
To: Frodo_

_You're not texting DURING the play, are you?  
_

_From: Frodo_  
_To: Bilbo  
[3 attachments]_

_Of course not. It's intermission. It's nearly over, so we're going back to our seats now. They got us snacks and stuff. Pippin still can't get anyone to give him beer._  


Bilbo shook his head and Bella smiled at him. "Texting Frodo? Your father told me about them all dressed up."

Bilbo handed over the phone and watched as the other three clustered around it to look at the pictures. 

"Bilbo Baggins, why were you up front in the church?" Lobelia had slipped up next to him, her eyes snapping. 

"Congratulations, Lobelia. You make a lovely bride," he said.

Her face twisted and she sighed, suddenly looking slightly less furious. "Thank you. It's a lot to organize."

"And, may I say that you've done an exceptional job," Gandalf said, turning away from Bilbo's phone and joining their conversation. "I am very grateful for the opportunity to attend this momentous and joyous occasion."

She looked at him, lips pursed, then nodded. "Thank you for coming. I didn't expect to see you."

"Ah, but I wouldn't have wanted to miss it, and as Bilbo invited me, I couldn't resist." Gandalf sat down, crossing his legs and leaning back slightly. Bilbo marveled at how the older man could look as if he were in charge of every situation; if ever Lobelia could be thought of as being the most important person in the room, it would be at her own wedding, but somehow just this moment, it looked as if she were trying to get Gandalf's attention.

"I have," Gandalf continued, "taken the liberty of bringing something special along with me, an amusement for your guests, possibly for after the cutting of the cake?"

She jumped slightly and looked toward the cake table. "I – thank you." She started to step away, then turned back, her eyes slightly narrow. "What is it?"

He smiled at her, beatific. "It's a gift from the entire Chemistry department. You'll have to bring the guests outside for it, but I'm sure it will be an exciting ending for the evening."

After she left, Bilbo sat down, staring at Gandalf. "You brought fireworks, didn't you?" He shook his head at Gandalf's laugh. "And you dragged my mother into it."

She sat down next to him. "Dragged nothing, kiddo. It was my idea." She handed him back his phone. "Those are great pictures. Looks like they're all having a lot of fun. Now, who's up for cake?"

An hour later, the whole party stood outside while huge white, golden, blue, and red blossoms of fire erupted over the little field next to the house. For a moment, Bilbo could see simple joy in Lobelia's face and he wished fiercely that she was able to find the happiness she wanted.


	72. Seventy Two – Time for a Reset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo decides that it's time he stopped letting himself feel so bad.

Sunday morning, after waking up slowly and late, Bilbo took a long shower. Back in his bedroom, Bilbo finished towelling his hair dry, then stood up slowly and looked at his room. Everything was mostly in place – there weren't piles of dirty clothes or trash – but it looked tired. The bedclothes were faded, and the dressers and tables were dusty. The sagging curtains were half-closed, and the bedside rugs were scattered – one was under the dresser farthest from its side of the bed and the other was crumpled and half-caught under the bedside table.

He pulled on a pair of soft cotton pants and a teeshirt, and walked through the rest of the house, suddenly seeing the way everything looked neglected and, somehow, sad. 

He wound up in the living room, staring at Deathless, who glared back, looking upset that it had taken him this long to notice. 

"Okay," he said to the little carved Dwarf. "Okay. I'm awake now, I'm better." He breathed in deeply and looked past Deathless to the windowsill, where the dragon was tipped over and the little man's hair was greyish with dust. "It's time to get back to living." He scooped Deathless up and walked to the kitchen.

The fridge was mostly filled with leftovers, many of them not worth even looking at. He shook his head and turned to the coffee maker. "Let's make a list," he said. Deathless supervised the coffee while Bilbo sat at the table with a notepad, jotting things down.

"So, new sheets, a full fridge, what else?" His gaze fell on the back yard; there were still Christmas lights strung up, but some of the chairs were blown over and the table was covered in blown leaves from the hill behind the house. "Time – past time – to get the garden started."

He accompanied the coffee with the last of the eggs and a slice of slightly old bread. When the dishwasher was burbling away to itself, he made a second pot of coffee, started two loaves of bread, and went to change into clothes to go out shopping.

He paused, on his way to the front door, and brought Deathless with him, dropping him in the pocket of his old brown coat. 

He turned on the radio in the car as he drove, paying attention to the music for the first time in what felt like years. Thoughfully, he changed the station from the classical one to the popular music one Frodo liked. Half an hour later, as he pulled into the IKEA parking lot, he realized he'd enjoyed most of the music he'd heard. 

IKEA was bustling and chaotic, but he found himself enjoying watching the young college kids as they tried to figure out the use of several different cooking utensils. In the bedding department, he spent some time trying to find sheet sets which were bright and cheerful. He'd just settled on a set with geometric shapes in white against a dark blue backgroud which reminded him of chemical ring structures, when he heard his name called.

He turned and saw someone waving from among the pillows. "Fatima," he said, "how are you?"

She wound her way through the display racks, followed by a tall man and woman; the woman's dark blue hijab made the brilliant saffron color of her tunic glow. In front of her, Fatima's usual black hijab looked suddenly plain.

She beamed up at him. "I'm fine, thank you. How are you? I mean," she paused and half-turned. "These are my parents." 

The woman stepped forward and took Bilbo's extended hand. "We are very pleased to meet you, Dr Baggins. Fatima loves your class." 

Bilbo smiled at her. "I'm glad to hear it. She's excellent at organic chemistry, Mrs Soroush. She's a delight to have in class and lab."

"Actually," Fatima said, "it's Dr Soroush."

Bilbo laughed, reminded of Frodo's insistence of that to Dwalin, the first time they'd met. "I’m very sorry," he said to Mr and Dr Soroush. "My nephew said the same exact thing, a few months ago, to a new friend of mine. It's always nice to know our young people want to have us recognized for our work."

Mr Soroush nodded. "We are very proud of her as well. She works very hard, but she's hoping to go to medical school, like her mother."

"I'm sure she'll be very good at it. She's quite analytical, and always catches me when I make mistakes in lecture."

Mr Soroush's eyes widened, and Bilbo chuckled. "Oh, you'd be surprised how easy it is to get caught up in something on the board and it's only when some bright voice from the back reminds you that you've forgotten half the extra electrons from the mechanism you're drawing that you realize you've just drawn something that can't possibly exist." Bilbo shrugged. "If it weren't for the kids paying attention, who knows what they'd try to make in lab." 

Dr Soroush smiled down at Fatima, who was leaning against her side. "She's been like that all her life. She used to correct the way I cut fruit for her."

"Oh mom, do you always have to bring that up?" Fatima covered her face with a hand, and Bilbo snorted. 

"I just remembered something," Bilbo said, after they'd said their goodbyes. "Fatima, there's a guest lecturer coming next quarter – a Dr Jarnnave. I think you'll want to try to attend at least one of his lectures. He's not teaching a full course, but there's some stuff about nucleic acids that you might find interesting, especially if you're looking at medicine. I'll send out an email, but I thought you'd want to know."

Back at home, Bilbo stuck the loaves of bread into the oven, then unpacked the groceries, stuffing the chicken he'd bought into a large ziplock bag with balsamic vinegar, sesame oil, a good handful of herbs, and some salt and pepper. With that sitting in the fridge to marinate, he dragged the IKEA bag to the bedroom and left it. 

He spent the next three hours bent over the finals he had to grade, finally stopping when he realized that he'd counted the same six carbons several times. Rubbing his eyes, he set the finished tests to the side and groaned. "That's enough for tonight," he said, and went off to the kitchen to start dinner.

While everything was in the oven, he changed his sheets, tossing his and Frodo's sheets into the washer with the bath towels. As he left the bedroom, he glanced back and smiled at the bright orange print of the duvet set he'd bought as well as the blue and white chemical-ish one. 

Over dinner, he laughed at the texts and pictures Frodo had sent during the day, duly admiring the handsome triad he, Sam, and Rosie made as they went out on their first Big Date together. Fili sent along a separate email, saying that Legolas and Gimli had gone to the same play, but hadn't sat with the kids. 

Bilbo started to respond, then looked at the time and realized it was well past midnight in New York. 

The next day, as a break from more grading, he dealt with another confused set of emails from the chemistry department about last minute class schedule changes for the next quarter. "This is next week, you morons," he muttered.

When he asked Fili how the date had gone – from the adult perspective – and how Merry and Pippin had behaved with only three adults to watch them, Fili sent back a note saying that they'd had help. There was a photo of Dwalin attached; he was wearing a dark green button down shirt with the top three buttons undone, over a pair of black jeans. His expression was a mixture of annoyance and humor, and Bilbo hoped the kids hadn't tried anything too crazy.

Fili sent another picture of the kids in the Natural History museum. They were standing in front of a wall with a bewildering array of different animals; the kids were dark silhouettes against the bright light of the display. Bilbo smiled at the fact that he could identify each immediately: Pippin was leaning far over the barrier with Merry and Gimli holding him back. Legolas seemed to be pointing something out to Rosie with Tauriel looking on. 

Kili stood with Frodo and Sam, pointing at the largest lobster Bilbo had ever seen. There were a few people Bilbo didn't immediately recognize in the picture. One man was standing behind Frodo looking where Kili was pointing and Bilbo found his gaze returning to his figure – something seemed familiar about him, the shape of the shoulders, or maybe the line of the nose. When he realized he was staring, Bilbo sighed and closed the image.

He finished grading the Organic Chemistry finals and posted those grades by nine Monday night and allowed himself a bottle of his favorite beer with the leftovers from last night's dinner. After dinner, he sat with his oldest and best loved cookbooks and planned out several extravagant meals.

Tuesday, he worked his way through the Inorganic Chemistry finals, alternating that with dusting and cleaning the house. By the end of the day, he'd nearly finished the grading and had entirely finished the house. He celebrated by cooking lamb-stuffed eggplants and fast-pickled cucumber salad.

Wednesday morning, he got an email from Nori.

_From: Nori@ConsortBooks  
To: ProfBBaggins_

_So, Sara says my pie's ready to give you. When would you like to come collect it?  
_

Bilbo laughed and leaned forward to answer. 

_From: ProfBBaggins  
To: Nori@ConsortBooks_

_I can swing by tomorrow, if you want.  
_

Wednesday afternoon, he celebrated finishing all the grading by spending the bulk of the day in the back yard, getting everything ready to set plants into his raised beds. He slept very well that night.

_From: Nori@ConsortBooks  
To: ProfBBaggins_

_Come in the afternoon? Maybe after three?  
_

In the kitchen, Bilbo thought suddenly of Bombur and the kitchen at the House of UR. On a whim, he called the restaurant. _There's no reason not to stay in touch, right?_

To his surprise, the hostess put him directly through to Bombur. 

"I was just going to ask your receptionist for your email address," Bilbo said.

Bombur laughed. "Oh, she knows her job. Now, I can fit you in at 7, would that suit?"

"Seven," Bilbo said, startled. "I'm sorry, I wasn't calling for reservations, I thought – " 

"I know it's spring break, so you've time. Why not come out and have a nice meal you don't have to clean up after?" Bombur's voice was warm.

Bilbo's eyes rested on the sink full of dishes and he grimaced. "How did you know? All right, I'll come by. I, um." He thought for a moment. "I'll be in the area around four, I guess, to meet my agent, so I can be there at seven."

There was a pause, then Bombur said, "Agent? Oh right, the books. _No, don't stir that in, you should wait and add that at the end._ Sorry Bilbo, that wasn't for you. You mean Nori, right?"

Bilbo stared out through the kitchen door. "How did you know that?"

Bombur's smile was audible. "Small world, as you should well know." There was a muffled sound of chairs scraping in the background. "I'll call and get things set up. I can't wait to get your opinion on next week's dishes."

Bilbo made a batch of chocolate truffles and then spent the rest of his morning writing. At three, he packed up the truffles and set out across the bridge, listening to the modern music radio station again. As he burst back into the sun coming through the Treasure Island tunnel, one of Erebor's songs came on and he surprised himself by singing along, filled with a bittersweet mixture of pleasure and melancholy.

Nori's wife was in his office. She beamed at Bilbo as he came in, saying, "It's so nice of you to invite us to UR. I haven't been able to get this jerk away from his computer and work in ages."

"I – that wasn't my doing." Bilbo shrugged. "I think Bombur sort of took over, somehow."

She grinned at him. "It's in your name, so you'll just have to take credit for it. It's the first time in a month I might be able to get my husband's attention." 

Nori looked over at him and sighed. "I'm abused, don't believe her. She hasn't stopped hounding me about that damned pie." At Bilbo's raised eyebrows, he continued, "Bombur made me promise to give it to you when everyone can see."

While Bilbo waited for Nori to finish working, he sat in the little conference room and wrote. He took the opportunity to get a cup of coffee when his phone chimed with a text from Frodo. 

_To: Bilbo_  
_From: Frodo  
[1 attachment]_

_Look at this beautiful old harp! I even got to play it a little!  
_

The picture was of Frodo sitting behind a large floor harp. The dark wood shone; there were ornate carvings picked out in faded paint along the base. Frodo's hands were on the strings, being guided by another person's hand. 

_To: Frodo  
From: Bilbo_

_That's gorgeous. Are you at Juilliard? How's the trip so far?  
_

_To: Bilbo  
From: Frodo_

_No, this is in a private collection. It's been great – I've taken so many pictures!  
_

Just before seven, Bilbo, Nori, and Sara walked to the underground entrance to the restaurant. As they walked past the corner, Bilbo saw a little well-lit foyer with UR on the glass and realized that was the regular front entrance. 

Upstairs, the hostess hugged Sara and led them through the door toward the kitchen, saying, "Most of the others are here already, but I think there's still one person coming later."

Bilbo turned to look at Nori, but didn't have time to ask his question before they'd gone through the door into the kitchen. 

"Bilbo!" Bombur said, wrapping him in a hug. "Great to see you, I'm so glad you came. Now, come this way and have a seat."

Across the room, in an area Bilbo hadn't seen the last time he'd been here, a table sat in a corner – in the kitchen, but out of the way of the main work area. Dori was already there, seated furthest from the door, talking to Bifur, who appeared to have brought his carving. Sitting next to Dori was someone Bilbo hadn't met yet; they were leaning back and talking to another person who Bilbo didn't know. Everyone looked up as Bilbo and his group arrived. 

Bifur smiled at Bilbo. "Good to see you looking so healthy," he said. "Have a seat and meet everyone." As Bilbo sat, Bifur half stood and kissed Sara's cheek. "Lovely to see you again as well."

Dori leaned forward. "This is my partner, Danni." Bilbo shook Danni's hand and then Dori continued, gesturing to the other unfamiliar face. "This is Faramir; he's one of our excellent managers."

Faramir waved a hand. "My father and brother do most of the work." 

The rest of the evening was spent in conversation and exquisite food. The table was filled with small plates of random dishes and occasionally, Bombur would descend on Bilbo and insist he try something specific and un-named. Bilbo got used to just opening his mouth like a bird waiting to be fed when Bombur approached the table with a spoon held out.

Nori's pie was brought out at the end, to much friendly laughter and ribbing. Despite the teasing, Bilbo – after tasting his slice – declared himself impressed. 

Bilbo spent most of Friday in the back yard, planting out the tomatoes and other vegetable starts he'd bought from the Veterans Aid Nursery. By the late afternoon, he was tired and his shoulders ached, but when he thought about how he'd felt just the week before, he sighed happily. "I'm going to be okay," he said. 

The phone rang and he glanced at it. "Fili," he said. "How are you? It looks like you guys are having a great time!"

Fili coughed. "Ah, Bilbo – " 

"How are the kids? Behaving themselves, I hope?" Bilbo smiled at his coffee cup.

"Bilbo, Frodo's been shot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lebanese stuffed eggplant [here](http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2009/10/lebanese-style-stuffed-eggplant/)
> 
> Fast Viennese Cucumber salad [ here](http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2008/01/viennese-cucumber-salad/)
> 
> And last but entirely NOT least, [ Chocolate truffles](http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2007/12/robert-linxes-chocolate-truffles) It's about time we got back to food, isn't it? *grin*"


	73. Seventy Three – At the Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the hospital, things go as well as can be expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm away visiting a friend who's dying of cancer right now, so if I'm slow to respond, I'm really sorry. I hope you're all having a good week, though!

Bilbo sat in the humming dark of the plane, his fellow passengers sleeping around him, staring blankly at the clouds through the window. He wasn't sure what he'd packed in his bag; he was pretty sure he had his laptop and phone, but he'd just grabbed his bag and left the house.

Fili had told him there would be a car coming to pick him up and the driver would have plane ticket information for him. He'd barely had time to grab his bag and a jacket before there'd been a knock at the door. The young man had confirmed his name, then driven him silently across the San Mateo bridge to the airport. Once there, he'd handed Bilbo a small envelope with his name on it and a boarding pass inside.

As Bilbo watched the endless empty sky pass outside the plane, he carefully concentrated on nothing and let the pounding in his head fill his thoughts.

At the airport in Syracuse, he was met by a man with 'Bilbo Baggins' showing on an iPad. The driver asked if he had any checked bags, then brought Bilbo to a dark shiny sedan parked out front in the terminal. As he swung out into traffic, Bilbo leaned forward and asked how long until they'd be at the hospital. 

"Not ten minutes, sir." The driver's voice was soft and calm. Bilbo sat back and watched the unfamiliar buildings of Syracuse slide by.

They pulled up past an old white building rich with cornices, then came to a gentle stop at a small side entrance. Legolas stood beside the door; he gripped Bilbo's shoulder, then led him through small corridors, past nodding doctors and nurses. 

Frodo's room was large and filled with light. There was only one bed – he was the only patient in the room – and there were several windows with white, airy curtains hanging beside them. There were two folding cots against the windowed wall, but they were empty. 

Frodo lay in the large bed, his hair dark against the crisp white sheets. His eyes were closed and Bilbo looked to Legolas who shook his head. 

"He's just sleeping," he said. "Don't worry." He seemed to understand how silly it was to say that, but then shrugged and continued. "It will be okay."

Bilbo dropped his bag on the floor and pulled a chair close to the bed. He watched Frodo's chest rise and fall; shadows shifted slowly as the light in the room moved. 

Finally, when he was convinced that Frodo wasn't going to stop breathing immediately, Bilbo noticed the white bandage wrapped around Frodo's chest, holding his right arm close to his body. Under the bandages, his chest was a shocking purple-red with short dark lines radiating out of the colored area. 

Frodo's face was scraped and there was a large bump on the side of his head. Some of the scrapes were held together with butterfly bandages which were stark white against the red of his injuries. 

Someone coughed and Bilbo jumped and turned around. The room had filled up when Bilbo hadn't been paying attention; Merry and Pippin stood near the door, with Fili, Tauriel, and Kili standing beside them. Legolas and Gimli stood near the windows. Sam and Rosie were sitting on the other side of Frodo's bed, crammed together in one chair. Rosie was holding onto Frodo's left hand; her eyes were red, but she didn't look desperate. 

When Bilbo met Fili's eyes, Fili nodded and stepped through the group, coming to crouch down next to Bilbo. Bilbo stared at him then leaned forward.

"You'd better have gotten the Arkenstone, after all of this."

Fili's eyes widened and he fell backwards onto his butt on the floor. Behind them, someone snorted; there were several gasps and at least one choked off exclamation. Fili stared up at Bilbo, his blue eyes very wide. 

"I – " 

"Bilbo?" Frodo's voice was weak. His eyes were bright and he kept glancing around the room. "Hi, Uncle Bilbo."

Bilbo stood up and ran a hand over Frodo's hair. "Hey kiddo. How are you?"

"I'm fine? I – my shoulder hurts." He looked around again, then tried to sit up. Sam, Rosie, and Bilbo all hurried to help him; Bilbo and Rosie helped Frodo up while Sam used the buttons to raise the bed. When Frodo was sitting up, he scanned the room, then said, "When'll mom and dad get here?"

Bilbo stumbled backwards, into Fili's sturdy bulk. There was a commotion in the group and Bilbo caught a glimpse of Merry diving out the door, a hand over his mouth. Bilbo turned back to Frodo; Sam and Rosie were pale blurs behind Frodo's confused face. 

"I – " Bilbo took in a deep breath. "They're not here yet."

Frodo's brows creased. "I can see that," he said. "But if you're here, then they'll be here soon, right?"

Bilbo was saved from answering when the door opened again and a deep, sharp voice cut through the noise. "If Professor Baggins is here, then he and I need to discuss Frodo Baggins' care."

A tall man with dark brown skin and short hair, wearing a crisp white coat with a nametag reading 'Bombadil', stood in the door. Bilbo turned and said, "I'm Baggins – I mean, please, call me Bilbo." 

The doctor nodded, then said, "Please, follow me." Bilbo followed in his wake as he strode through the hospital, ignoring all the people who nodded at him.

In his office, he sat down behind a cluttered desk and waited while Bilbo adjusted his chair. 

"Now, Professor Baggins," Dr Bombadil said, glancing at something on his computer screen. "Your nephew isn't really in any danger. We were mostly keeping him until his legal guardian arrived and could let us know what he – you – wanted us do."

Bilbo blinked at him. "I – I'm afraid I don't actually know what happened. I was told he'd been shot."

Bombadil looked at his screen again, then lifted his chin. "Yes, he was, but the jacket he was wearing protected him from gross bodily harm. His collarbone is broken and he has suffered bruising, but that isn't too worrying. The concussion is something we've been keeping an eye on, but he seems to be progressing well, all things told, so that shouldn't be a long-term problem."

Bilbo blinked. "… jacket?" He had a sudden memory of Dwalin, at the Christmas party, saying something about a 'tactical' coat and felt a surge of emotion he couldn't identify. "Yes, right. So, Frodo has a concussion? Does that account for his memory loss?"

Dr Bombadil's gaze sharpened. "Memory loss? When has he presented with memory loss?"

"He just asked when his parents are arriving, but they're dead. They died around Christmas time, in a boat capsizing accident."

For a moment, the doctor's eyes unfocused, then he looked at Bilbo again. "That's probably a temporary thing. He's been unconscious or asleep most of the time since he was brought in, and a fully comprehensive scan hasn't been done. However, confusion and memory complaints are common and usually not long-lasting. He will need to be seen by his regular doctor, of course, and he shouldn't participate in any strenuous physical activity and he should probably postpone returning to school for a short period of time." 

Bilbo nodded. "He doesn't play sports, so that shouldn't be too hard. Is there anything else – can he fly? We live in California."

Dr Bombadil leaned forward slightly. "We'd like him to stay for a little longer, unless there's a pressing need for you to return immediately. If he's experiencing memory distortions, it would be a good idea to keep him under observation."

Bilbo pressed his lips together. "Of course. I'm sure I can find someplace to stay – there must be hotels nearby."

Dr Bombadil's brows pulled in. "I was under the impression that you'd be staying with the rest of your family. They've been very protective of your nephew."

When Bilbo left Dr Bombadil's office, he found himself in an anonymous corridor with no idea how to get back to Frodo's room. His head was beginning to pound again and he closed his eyes, pressing in on them with the heels of his hands. After a long moment, he opened them again and saw Thorin standing at the end of the corridor, his arms held open and an expression of longing and sorrow on his face.

Bilbo walked down the hall towards him, unconsciously speeding up until he was practically trotting. He slammed into Thorin with a gentle thump, his arms wrapping around Thorin's strong, warm, heavy body. Thorin's arms folded around Bilbo and his cheek rested on top of Bilbo's head. Bilbo buried his nose into Thorin, breathing in the mixed scents of laundry soap, sweat, and the funny metallic-stone scent that seemed to be unique to Thorin. For one blissful moment, everything else in the world disappeared. 

_I know that this can't last, that he'll have to go away again, but he's here for now and I need him so much…_

Bilbo finally stepped back and Thorin's arms dropped immediately. Bilbo sighed. "We have a lot to talk about, but not now. I have to get back to Frodo and I don't know how."

Thorin swung around and held out an arm. "I came here to get you. He's remembered about his parents and everyone but Sam and Rosie left. They're in the cafeteria, if you'd like to talk to them as well."

Thorin led him down several corridors and around a corner and then held open Frodo's door. "I'll be right here when you want me – I mean, when you want to go to the cafeteria, or somewhere else."

Bilbo stood looking up at Thorin; his dark blue eyes had deep shadows under them, and for once Bilbo could see how old Thorin really was. After a moment, Bilbo reached up and stroked a hand across Thorin's cheek.

"Thank you, Thorin."

In the room, Frodo was leaning on Sam's shoulder, his face now wet with tears. "Oh Frodo," Bilbo said and wrapped his arms carefully around him. Frodo dropped his forehead to Bilbo's shoulder and whined. 

"Why'd they have to go on that boat, Bilbo?" His voice was ragged.

Bilbo sighed, feeling his eyes burn. "I don't know, kiddo. I just don't know." 

Sam leaned in fron Frodo's other side and Rosie curled up against Frodo's back with her forehead resting on the back of Frodo's neck and they all sat there together, listening to the silence in the room and the echoes of sound from outside.

After a while, Sam sat up a bit and whispered, "I think he's gone to sleep again." They carefully lowered the bed, then settled Frodo down into the pillows. Sam turned to Bilbo, then and looked him up and down. "When did you sleep?"

Bilbo blinked at him. "I – yesterday? I think." He ran a hand over his face. "I can't go to sleep yet, though. I have to talk to the rest of them to find out what happened." He looked back and forth between Rosie and Sam. "Can you two stay here and keep an eye on Frodo? Call if anything changes."

Thorin was leaning against the far wall of the hallway, arms crossed and eyes fixed on Frodo's door. When Bilbo closed the door behind himself, Thorin stood up. 

"Would you like to have something to eat? Would you like to come home and get some sleep? It's not much more than twenty minutes to the house…"

"I think I should talk to everyone first. You said they were all in the cafeteria?"

Thorin glanced down the hall. "Have you eaten anything? I know there's no food offered on the plane and Fili said he called before you'd have eaten dinner, so please? You have to eat."

Bilbo felt suddenly both hungry and slightly light-headed. He started to step forward, but the floor shifted under his feet. Thorin was instantly next to him, his arms under Bilbo's elbows.

"I – yes, maybe I should eat something." Bilbo tried to make the floor stop moving.

Thorin peered into his eyes. "And sleep. You didn't sleep on the plane."

In the end, they ended up in a small conference room a few floors up from Frodo's room and on the opposite side of the building. Someone had arranged for a large variety of sandwiches and salads in containers and Bilbo felt himself waking back up after eating half a pastrami sandwich and a pint of tangy pasta salad studded with olives, small cherry tomatoes, and green beans he was surprised to note were edamame. 

"Okay, I think it's time someone explained to me _just what the fuck_ you thought you were doing putting my underage nephew in danger and why he got _shot_."

Merry, who'd been sitting by himself in the corner of the room, suddenly started sobbing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, his hands over his face. "It's all my fault."

Bilbo exchanged a startled glance with Gimli, then walked over to Merry and sat down in an empty chair. "Why is this your fault?"

Merry tipped his head back. "Because if I hadn't said anything about seeing Azog steal that stupid stone, Frodo wouldn't have been up on that pier."

Bilbo huffed a laugh and rubbed a hand up and down Merry's arm. "Oh kid, thank you, but I'm pretty sure the adults in the situation are more responsible for it than you are." Bilbo saw Fili and Thorin flinch.

Bilbo spun his chair to face them. "So, did you find the Arkenstone? And why did you give me a bullet proof jacket as a Christmas gift, Thorin?" Thorin stood stiffly and Bilbo plunged on. "Don't you think you should have told me that you'd given me a coat like that – and _why_ you felt it necessary to do so?"

Fili's arms were wrapped around his stomach and his face was slightly grey. "I didn't realize that he hadn't told you – " 

"I know, Fili. I'm not angry at you. Well, maybe a little – why was _Frodo_ the one who was doing whatever it was you guys were doing?"

Across the room, Tauriel, who'd been leaning her chin on her hand, said, "He insisted, actually. He's taller than Pippin or Merry and weighs less than the rest of us, so it was easier for him to climb the rocks of the pier to Azog's hiding place."

Bilbo stared back and forth between her and Thorin, who wouldn't look up from the tips of his shoes. "Wait a minute," Bilbo said, feeling slightly dizzy. "Why would he need to climb a pier? Aren't they usually made of wood?"

Gimli groaned. "Oh shit." He looked at Fili, then Kili, then Merry and Pippin. "You didn't tell him _anything?_ You said that he knew what we were doing."

"I didn't," Bilbo said sharply, "so why doesn't someone explain it to me."


	74. Seventy Four – Story Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What were they doing and how did no one notice a man with a gun?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be exercising a bit of creative license with the legalities of things here - this _is_ fiction, after all.

Seventy Four – Story Time 

"The original plan," Fili said, "was to take Frodo to New York to show him professional musical theater and to introduce him around at Juilliard. He can certainly go to one of the local colleges – local to Oakland, I mean, but I thought he should see other options." Fili rubbed his eyes and Bilbo had the sudden thought that it was likely that he hadn't slept much either.

"But then Frodo said something about what Merry'd seen –" 

"Azog stealing the Arkenstone?" Bilbo looked over his shoulder at Merry, who was sitting with his face buried in his folded arms. 

"Yeah, that." Fili paused, looking a little blank. He sucked in a breath, then said, "And then Dwalin said that he might know where Azog had hidden it."

"Wait." Bilbo shook his head, holding up a hand. "How does Dwalin come into this?"

Kili called, from where he was draped over the table next to Tauriel, "He's always part of an East Coast trip. He and mom and Uncle Thorin all grew up here, and we spent some summers here – well, up at Grampa's home, not here in Syracuse, but here, you know. I mean –" He waved a hand. "So, when we come here, he's always invited."

Bilbo caught a glimpse of Thorin, who'd dropped his face into a hand. 

"So, Dwalin knows the Arkenstone's hidden in a dock. Are there docks around here?" Bilbo looked at Fili. 

"What do you mean?" Fili blinked at him. "It's not in a dock. It's on a pier – an old bridge pier. The Seneca River goes through Lysander. There's a bridge across it, and the piers of the old bridge are just a bit downstream." He shrugged. "I don't know how old it is."

"It was gone when we were kids," Thorin said. We used to take a little boat and muck about in the river. Azog liked climbing on the piers. He used to say – " Thorin froze, his face suddenly a blank mask. After a long moment, he continued. "Anyway, that's been a dead bridge for a long time now."

Bilbo rubbed his face. "Okay, so you guys came to New York, then came up here and … walked across an old bridge to get to the one which Azog liked to hide things in. How does this end up with Frodo getting shot?" He sat up. "Or is this just random and upstate New York is rougher than I thought?"

Behind Fili, Thorin's face quirked with humor, but he shook his head.

"No, no, we spent the first part of the week in the city," Fili said. "They saw _Hamilton_ , and _An American in Paris_ , and _The Book of Mormon_."

"And Cats," said Pippin, grinning at Bilbo, who rolled his eyes. 

"You would like Cats," Bilbo muttered. 

"And then," Fili continued, "we came up here. Grampa was happy to have us, and he's looking forward to meeting you."

Bilbo leaned back. "Your grandfather expects to meet me?"

Fili twisted to look up at Thorin, then turned back to Bilbo. "I think he said something about getting to meet all the new members of the family." He paused, looking at someone sitting at the table. Bilbo didn't look to see who, as he was staring at Thorin, who'd turned away and was studying the wallpaper. 

After a moment, Bilbo sighed. _I'll have to pry this out of Thorin later._ "At what point in this story do we get to the old bridge."

Fili tugged on his hair. "We came up here on, um, Thursday morning and spent the rest of the day at Grampa's house. Well, we went out for dinner. Cooking for this horde's a bit much." He grinned at Gimli. "Then Friday we worked out which pier it probably was and got boats and started poking around. Dwalin was right – there's a moveable stone in the central pier. The thing is, it's near the top and Frodo was the one who could reach it. I didn't even know what had happened, actually. I thought he'd slipped. I mean," Fili's hands tangled together. "There were a couple of sharp noises, but, well, I didn't realize what had happened until Thorin shouted."

Bilbo glanced at Thorin, who was grey. "So what did happen?"

Fili looked miserable. "The boat kept moving, so Tauriel was holding it against the pier while I held onto Frodo. Then he sort of … grunted and fell forward – that's when he hit his head. I'm afraid he got dunked at well. He fell sideways and I couldn't hang on." Fili buried his hands in his hair. "I'm so fucking _sorry_ , Bilbo."

"How'd he get out of the water?" Bilbo watched the way his shoes made shadows on the pale carpet. 

"I jumped in, of course," Fili said, looking startled. 

"Ah." 

"So we got back to shore and Gimli had called 911. He and Tauriel are the police contacts, but they'll want to talk to you, of course," Fili said.

Bilbo turned and raised his eyebrows at Gimli. "Why you, Gimli?"

Tauriel answered, a small smile on her face. "Well, the hospital would have to report the gunshot wound. We're trying to keep the media out of this." 

"For a few very good reasons," Thorin muttered, not quite under his breath. 

Bilbo suddenly sucked in his own breath. _The media. Oh shit, if Azog finds out that the kids were digging in his old hiding place…_ "We're trying to keep Azog out of it?"

"No, that's a lost cause," Thorin said. He crossed his arms. "I don't know if he'll be publishing it, though." He smiled, a thin edged thing with no humor in it. "At least not if Bolg knows I recognized him."

Bilbo blinked, confused. "What? You know who shot Frodo? Why didn't you tell the police?"

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Legolas stood and, after a quiet conversation with whoever had knocked, stood back. A hospital staff member and a police officer stepped in. 

"This is Officer Bergil," the staff member said. "She'd like to talk to Ms Noldorin and Mr Grakung, and to Mr Baggins." 

"It's _Professor_ , actually." To Bilbo's surprise, three people had said this in unison. Pippin beamed at him, but Kili was glaring down at the table, and Gimli just smiled blandly at the officer.

Bilbo stood up. As he did, he saw that Thorin and Fili had turned slightly away from the door. Thorin caught his eye and curled a finger; he whispered, "Come here?"

Bilbo stepped closer and tipped his head. "What?" he said quietly.

"The reason we haven't told the police who shot Frodo is because Bolg is Azog's son. We still don't know why he had Bolg come out, and since the Lysander police are pretty much in Azog's pocket, we wanted to wait."

Bilbo turned to look directly at him. "That … doesn't really make sense. It's not our job to figure out why Bolg shot Frodo, that's what the police are for. And this, um …" He looked at the police officer, who was talking to Gimli. "Bergil, she seems like she'd be okay. She's Syracuse police, anyway."

"Half the police officers in Lysander are from Syracuse, and they're _all_ being paid off by the Gogol family. There's every chance that if we tell them anything, they'll destroy any evidence and immediately tell the news."

Bilbo shrugged. "The news? It's just a shooting – I mean, it's not like this is another of the police brutality cases. Who'd care? Frodo didn't even … he's … he's okay, just bruised, so…?"

Thorin turned and rubbed his hands up and down Bilbo's arms. "He'll be fine. But if the media finds out that we're here … remember what it was like in Baltimore? That woman who followed you into the hotel?"

Bilbo blinked up at him, suddenly realizing the problem. "Oh," he said. "Shit. That's … yeah, that's not great." He looked at the police officer, who was beginning to look a little annoyed. Merry was asking questions and pointing at her gun.

"Okay," Bilbo said, straightening his shoulders. "I'll figure something out, but this can't last for long, Thorin, because I won't hide information from the police." Thorin nodded and dropped his hands and Bilbo shivered at the sudden cold. _Dammit, it always feels so good when he's touching me._

With a deep breath, Bilbo stepped through the small crowd. He held his hand out as he stepped past Legolas. "Hello," he said to Officer Bergil. "I'm Professor Baggins. Nice to meet you, but I wish it were under other circumstances."

She nodded as she shook his hand. "Likewise. How is your son doing?"

"Nephew, and they say he's recovering. He's got a broken collarbone and some bruising, and a concussion, but he'll be okay." He moved toward the door. "Thank you for asking."

She smiled at him. "Good. Now," she glanced at Tauriel and Gimli, "if I could talk to you somewhere quieter …?"

The hospital staff member nodded. "Of course. Please follow me." She led the way out of the room; Officer Bergil stood to the side, gesturing Bilbo and the others to precede her through the door. Bilbo carefully didn't look back at Thorin as he left. 

They ended up in a small office; Bilbo eyed the large posters of cutaway eyes and nasal cavities and shook his head. Bergil glanced up at them as well, then smiled at him as she shut the door behind herself. "You never know what you're going to get here." She leaned against the desk. "I had to talk to a family about dog bites, one time, in a gynecology room. It was a little strange." 

Bilbo sank down into one of the three chairs and Gimli sat beside him. Tauriel remained standing, her back straight and her eyes cool and level on the police officer. Bergil eyed her, then shrugged and took out a notepad. "Now, Professor Baggins, I understand your nephew was staying with friends in Lysander when he was shot?"

Bilbo nodded. "Yes, he was on a trip to New York for spring break." 

"And you weren't with him?" She didn't look at him as she asked the questions. 

"No, I was back at home. He was with people I trust – as good as family." He smiled at Gimli, who smiled back. "Of course, I came as soon as I heard."

"Of course." She looked at something she'd written earlier. "Do you know anything about what he was doing when this happened?"

"I … no, I wasn't here. I mean, I understand he was shot, but the jacket he was wearing protected him." Bilbo felt uncertain. _I don't like lying to cops._

"Yes, the jacket," she said, finally looking directly at him. "Why did he have a jacket with body armor in it? Is California really that dangerous?"

"It was a gift – to me, actually. I let Frodo borrow it to come here. Not because it has body armor, but because it's heavy wool. I guess the weight's because – " He closed his eyes for a second. "Anyway, it's just damned lucky he _did_ borrow it, because otherwise, we'd be discussing a funeral. I could ask you the same question about your home town."

She smiled thinly. "My home town is Lysander, and I'd have said that it wasn't the kind of place to have visiting teenaged boys get shot in the middle of town." Her lips pressed so tightly together that they went white. "I'm no more pleased by this than you are. Only, I have to find the person who did this and that's hard to do when you and the Durins out there refuse to give me any information."

At Bilbo's side, Gimli stiffened.

"You, ah, know who they are?" Bilbo asked.

Bergil looked at him, the corner of her mouth twisted up. "I grew up in Lysander. I know all about the Durins. _And_ the Gogols, which is why I'm in the police force _here_ in Syracuse. My family has been police officers here for generations – my great-grandfather was the first in our famly – and I do know what the Lysander cops are like." She closed the notepad. "If that's the issue, can you please tell Mr Durin that we can work something out to keep him out of the news?"

Bilbo nodded, watching Tauriel out of the corner of his eye. She'd relaxed as soon as Bergil had said that her family had been Syracuse police officers for years. "I'll talk to him."

"Thank you." Bergil tucked her notepad into a pocket. "Now, as this isn't a homicide, just a shooting, we have a little more leeway. I would like to talk to your nephew, to see if he saw anything." She stood up from the desk, then turned to face Bilbo. "Say, do you know what they were doing on the river?"

Bilbo shrugged. "I'm not exactly sure, honestly. I haven't been able to pay much attention to anything other than Frodo. I haven't slept since last night … no, the night before last." He yawned, suddenly hit by a wave of fatigue. "I'm sorry, but I really don't know much."

She watched him steadily, her dark eyes level, then she smiled and lifted a shoulder. "I can come back tomorrow morning and talk to you and to your nephew then. How about ten tomorrow?"

After she said goodbye, Bilbo stood in the hallway watching her move confidently away. "I’m not kidding about being tired. I think I need to go see if Frodo's awake again and then find a hotel."

Tauriel nodded. "I'll take you to Frodo's room. Gimli can bring the rest of the group to meet us there."

Frodo had woken up – he was sitting up again and looking in dismay at the lunch tray on the rolling table across his bed. "Uncle Bilbo, this isn't food. Look, there's _jello_."

Bilbo started laughing, then relief about the fact that Frodo was still able to make him laugh hit him and he laughed even harder. Just then the door opened and everyone else came in, Thorin at the back of the group. His eyes immediately locked on Bilbo's, but after a second, he looked away.

"Hi guys," Sam said. "You're just in time to watch Hospital Food Daily, your favorite cooking show."

Legolas snorted. "That's not food. That's nutrition paste, formed and dyed to look like it's pretending to be food."

As the group tried to determine whether or not hospital food counted as edible or not, Thorin edged closer to Bilbo.

"Gimli said you think you'll have to stay at a hotel. You really don't – please come back home with me – us. My father would like to meet you and the house is well big enough to take everyone." He looked around the room, glowering for a second at the curtains; Bilbo was unexpectedly struck by how much Thorin resembled Deathless. _Bofur's a marvel._

It was the look of hopelessness on Thorin's face that decided him.

"Okay, I'll meet your father. How far away is Lysander, anyway?"

Thorin's face was lit like the dawn. "Only twenty minutes. Not far, I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a link to the bridge piers in question. [Seneca River](https://www.google.com/maps/place/43%C2%B009'26.1%22N+76%C2%B019'49.7%22W/@43.1576005,-76.3306549,348a,20y,346.81h/data=!3m1!1e3!4m2!3m1!1s0x0:0x0)
> 
> I'm playing a bit fast and loose with some of the geography, but this is basically what things look like on the ground.


	75. Seventy Five - Things Always Look Better in the Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's had a hard couple of days, but at least there's a nice bed waiting, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning - there's a bit of death imagery in this chapter, if you find that distressing. 
> 
> In other news, I upgraded my phone and it's like moving to a new house that's almost like your old house, except everything is now two feet to the left and one thing is moved from each room to another one ... and there's no instructions for what's moved and to where.

Sam and Rosie gathered up their things and hugged Frodo goodbye. Everyone else patted Frodo or hugged him, then waited out in the hallway for Bilbo. He sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around Frodo’s shoulders, careful to avoid pressing on his right side. 

“I’ve got to go for the night,” Bilbo said. “Then tomorrow we’ll talk to the police officer and after that, you can come home.”

Frodo nodded. “Are we going straight home?”

“I’m not sure. I guess we’ll have to see what the cop has to say. I don’t think they can make us stay here.”

Frodo leaned his left shoulder into Bilbo’s chest. “Thorin’s dad’s nice, but a bit old. He asked a lot about you.”

Bilbo sighed. “He did? Good to know. Anything in particular?” He didn’t know if he really wanted to deal with being interrogated.

Frodo started to shrug, then winced. “No? I don’t know. He asked what kind of chemistry you did and what your mom and dad do for a living. Stuff like that.”

_Great. He just wants to know my family’s entire financial history, I’ll bet._ Bilbo rubbed his face. “Okay, kiddo. Go to bed and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He kissed Frodo on top of the head, ruffled his hair, then left the room. 

Thorin was the only one in the hallway. He’d been leaning against the wall and stood straight when Bilbo left Frodo’s room. 

“Where is everyone?” 

Thorin began guiding Bilbo through the different corridors. “They’ve gone ahead – we’re in several cars, so you can come with me.” He held open the outside door and Bilbo saw it was later than he’d realized. The sun was just going down and he shivered in the sudden cold.

A heavy warm weight fell over his shoulders and he turned, fingers unconsciously pulling the collar of Thorin’s coat tighter. “Oh, won’t you be cold?”

Thorin tilted his head. “I’ll be okay, but you’re used to California weather. And it won’t be long. I’ll turn on the cars’ heated seats.” 

In the car, Bilbo watched as an unfamiliar city flowed by, giving way to more and more green until they were driving through what looked, to Bilbo’s eyes, like a rural area. “Did you grow up in a field?”

Thorin chuckled; in the dark of the car, it was an intimate sound. Bilbo sank deeper into the seat, which was radiating heat, and turned to watch Thorin. The dash lights reflected on Thorin’s face, highlighting the lines around his eyes and the shadows under them. He looked simultaneously old and achingly handsome. 

“You grew up surrounded by a forest, so you don’t have any room to talk,” Thorin said, smiling quickly at Bilbo. 

Bilbo smiled back and leaned his head on the back of the seat. Thorin’s coat was draped over him and it felt like he was in a tiny cocoon of warmth. He couldn’t keep his eyes open. “I’ll talk about you growing up like a hayseed if I want to,” he said.

Before Bilbo knew it, they’d stopped. “Are we …” He struggled with the seatbelt, but got caught in Thorin’s coat. He didn’t have time to get himself untangled – Thorin opened his door and helped him out. 

The house was cream colored and large; it glowed in the evening light. Practically every window shone with light, which lit the nearby trees. The front door opened and Bilbo saw the shape of a man, like a shadow in the light. 

“We’re nearly there,” Thorin said, helping Bilbo to his feet. 

Bilbo blinked several times and rubbed his face as they walked to the open door. He could hear happy hubbub from behind the man. As they gained the porch, the man stepped out to meet them. He wasn’t as tall as Thorin, but still tall enough for Bilbo to have to look up at him. His iron grey hair swept back from a sharp widow’s peak and his nose cut sharply through the air. 

Bilbo reached out to shake his hand. “Hello,” he said, “I’m Bilbo –“ 

“Baggins, yes.” Thrain took Bilbo hand in both of his, bowed slightly and said, “Hos geldiniz.” Then he straightened and, still holding Bilbo’s hand in one of his, gestured to the open door. “Please be welcome in my house.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, feeling very much out of his depth. 

“Bilbo hasn’t slept in nearly two days, Dad. I’m going to put him in the back room upstairs, with the full bathroom.”

They walked into the house, Thorin leading Bilbo and Thrain following behind. “I thought he’d prefer the suite on the other side of the house,” Thrain said, pulling the door closed. “If he and his nephew are staying for any time, they might prefer to have the space to themselves.”

Thorin swung around and stared at his father, but Bilbo shook his head. “Please, don’t go to any trouble. I’m happy to sleep on the couch or something.”

“I’m certain that will not be necessary.” Thrain’s voice was dry. “However, as I can see that you are quite asleep on your feet, I’ll allow Thorin to choose what seems best to him. We can always move you to a more appropriate situation tomorrow.”

Thorin led Bilbo past a wide door through which he caught a glimpse of the kids all sitting at a huge table lit by a giant chandelier. They seemed to be eating pizza and playing something on the table. Gimli waved from the far end and Legolas looked up at him, smiling. 

Bilbo had a confused impression of hallways and staircases with portraits on the walls before Thorin finally brought him to a bedroom with a large, luxurious bed. “There’s a bathroom in there,” Thorin said, pointing to a door Bilbo hadn’t seen. “There’s a toothbrush and stuff, and a robe. I’ll wait for you here, then make sure you’re okay.”

Bilbo paused on his way into the bathroom. “Are you staying here tonight?” 

Thorin looked suddenly hungry. “I – my room’s just down the hall, but if…” 

“Oh.” Bilbo rubbed his face. “Right, of course.” He went into the bathroom, shut the door and stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was practically standing on end, his eyes looked like the ‘before’ picture in a Visine ad, and his clothes were one giant wrinkle. _No matter how nice you might find it to have someone to hold tonight, you have to remember he’s not interested any more._

When he finished, Thorin was standing in about the same place as he’d been, but he was wearing a knee-length terry robe and he’d braided his hair back. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them and shoved his hands into the robe’s pockets. 

“You’re going to bed this early?” Bilbo said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He felt slightly lightheaded. 

“If you want,” Thorin said, from just beside Bilbo. Bilbo jumped a little. He hadn’t seen Thorin move. Thorin sat down next to him slowly, his eyes searching Bilbo’s. “If you want,” he repeated, “I could stay with you tonight. Not if you don’t want, obviously, and I won’t … this doesn’t mean you’re committed to anything, but …”

Bilbo blinked at him. “If you want,” he said, “it’s okay with me. We still need to talk, though.”

Thorin nodded. “Yes, I know.” He stroked Bilbo’s cheek with his hand. “I’m so sorry, Bilbo, for everything.”

In bed, in the dark room, Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin’s chest. Thorin turned and wound himself around Bilbo, tucking Bilbo’s head under his chin, stroking his hair. Bilbo closed his eyes and fell asleep.

_Bilbo rushed into the hospital room. It was light and airy and clean smelling, but under the slight scent of jasmine and lilies, he could detect the sickly sweet tang of death. Frodo lay in the bed, his dark hair spread out on the pillow, his skin nearly as white as the sheets. His eyes were closed._

_Bilbo snatched up Frodo’s hands and shook them, then grabbed his shoulders and tried there. Frodo’s body bounced on the bed, his head rolling loosely on his neck._

_“FRODO,” Bilbo screamed. There was a scraping sound and Bilbo looked up. Drogo and Primula stood on the other side of the bed, their faces twisted with anger and accusation._

_“We gave you our son to keep and protect and this is what you let happen?”_

_“No, please, I didn’t … please,” Bilbo sank to his knees next to the bed. “No.”_

“Bilbo. _Bilbo_ ” Someone was shaking him slightly, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hair. “Bilbo, it’s okay.”

Bilbo opened his eyes to see Thorin looming over him. The curtains weren’t pulled all the way closed, so the moon sent shafts of cool, silver light across the bed. Thorin’s face was caught in one; his eyes glowed in the light. 

“Frodo was dead,” Bilbo whispered. “He was dead and Drogo and … and Prim, they asked me why I let it happen and…” He buried his face in Thorin’s neck and sobbed. 

“Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Thorin murmurred, stroking Bilbo’s back. “Frodo’s fine, he’s not dead. He’s alive. You’ll see him again tomorrow.” 

It was a long time before Bilbo fell back asleep. 

In the morning, he woke up to the smell of fresh coffee. Thorin shut the door behind himself, carefully balancing a small tray in one hand. “I brought you coffee,” he said. Bilbo sat up and stretched, yawning. 

Thorin set the tray down on the nightstand, his face flushed. “Did you sleep okay after the nightmare? You didn’t seem to have any more.”

Bilbo nodded, taking the coffee Thorin handed him. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. He sipped from the mug. “Mmm, this is good. Thank you.”

Thorin took his own cup and sat on the edge of the bed. The hand not holding his coffee lifted for a second, then fell back to the bed. “You’re welcome and please, don’t apologize for anything. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Bilbo drank more of the coffee. He kept feeling like he was forgetting something. “What time is it?”

“About nine, why? If you want to go back to sleep –“ 

“Shit!” Bilbo shoved his cup back to Thorin. “I have to meet that cop, and you have to come as well.” He scooted to the edge of the bed, then stopped. “And I don’t have anything to wear. I didn’t pack anything at all.”

“Oh, um.” Thorin looked at his knees. “I got you some things. I thought you might not have brought anything and I remembered about what size you are, so I got you some jeans and underwear and shirts.” He smiled for a second. “I nearly forgot socks, but Sam reminded me.”

Bilbo sighed deeply. “I’d tell you that you have to stop buying me things, but honestly, I’m just glad to have something other than three day old underpants to wear. Thank you – and I’ll thank Sam as well.” He got up and went to the bathroom. “We’re supposed to meet Officer Bergil at 10.”

Thorin sighed and followed him into the bathroom. “I told you why it’s a bad idea to have me involved in this.”

“She knows exactly who you are and she asked for you specifically.” Bilbo stepped into the shower and ignored the sounds from the rest of the room. _Hiding information from the police is a terrible idea._

When he got out of the shower, there was a pile of huge fluffy towels waiting for him. In the bedroom, he found a neat pile of clothes. Three pairs of jeans, at least a dozen underpants, several pairs of socks, and a variety of shirts, from tee shirts with local place-names on the front to button-up oxford style. Bilbo huffed a laugh, and chose a light blue long-sleeve button up shirt. 

After a bit of exploration, he found the stairs and trotted down them, rolling his sleeves as he went. He followed the sound of voices to the kitchen, where he found Thorin talking to his father.

“ – have to trust them some time,” Thorin was saying. 

“I know you want to – ah, Professor, good to see you. You’re looking much better this morning. Thorin tells me you’re off to hospital.” Thrain was packaging something up as he spoke.

“Thank you, yes.” In the morning light, Bilbo could see the strong resemblance between Thrain and Thorin. “I have to meet with a police officer about what happened here. Also, I’m pretty sure the hospital is releasing Frodo. I’m sorry to commandeer your son, but I didn’t have a chance to rent a car yesterday.” 

Thrain set the package he’d been working on in front of Thorin. “Oh, don’t worry about renting a car. If Thorin can’t drive you where you need to go, there’s certain to be something you can borrow while you’re here.”

Bilbo crossed his arms. “That’s a very generous offer, Mr Durin, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I’ll have Thorin drop Frodo and I off at a rental agency after the hospital visit and we’ll get something.” He carefully set his hands on the countertop. “Now, I’m afraid that I have to insist we go, as I don’t want to be late for our appointment. Thank you very much for your offer, and for your hospitality to myself and my family.”

In the car on the way back to Syracuse, Thorin handed Bilbo the package. “That’s breakfast sandwiches for us. Pick whichever one you want and I’ll have the other.”

Bilbo opened the box to find two neatly wrapped bundles. One had ‘bacon’ written on it and the other had ‘sausage’. He unwrapped ‘sausage’; it was a toasted english muffin with freshly scrambled eggs, a thick sausage patty, two slices of real cheddar cheese, and what smelled like red-pepper aioli. It was still warm. “Your father made us … “

Thorin lifted a shoulder. “He likes to cook and I think he’s trying to welcome you to the family.”

“Did you forget to tell him that – “ Bilbo closed his mouth sharply, breathing in and out through his nose. “I’ll take sausage. I hope bacon’s okay for you.”

Thorin looked at him out of the corners of his eyes. “Perfect, thanks.” 

After several quiet minutes of munching, Thorin said, “So, you said the cop knew who we were?”

Bilbo folded the paper his sandwich had been wrapped in and put it back in the box, taking Thorin’s wrapper from him. “Yes. She said she grew up in Lysander and knows all about the police here. There. Whatever. She said that her family’s been cops for several generations and that they’re cops in Syracuse because of what’s going on in Lysander.”

Thorin looked directly at Bilbo for a minute, then back at the road. “What was her name again?”

“Bergil, I think. Why?”

“Did she give her last name?” Thorin’s voice was tight.

“I … isn’t Bergil her last name?” Bilbo closed the box and set it at his feet. He could see the hospital building just past the next traffic light.

Thorin licked his lips. “Not if she’s who I think she might be.”

Bilbo just shook his head. _My family’s not the only one with long-held grudges, it seems._


	76. Seventy Six - Questions and Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn more about Bergil and finally might be getting some answers elsewhere as well.

They got to the hospital in time to check on Frodo, who met them with desperate pleas for rescue and a proper breakfast. After promising to take him someplace nice, Bilbo and Thorin followed a nurse to the same conference room they’d been in the day before.

Bergil was already there; there was a computer tablet in front of her and she was making notes in three different notepads.

“Ah,” she said, smiling up at them. “Glad you could make it. How’s the boy?”

“Frodo’s fine, thank you,” Bilbo said, sitting down across from her. He turned to look at Thorin, who’d hung back a bit. “He’s anxious to get out and eat something decent.”

She laughed. “I’ve never understood why hospitals make such a point of having dreadful food. You’d think they’d go out of their way to make it attractive, but apparently the only good food is tasteless.” She was silent for a minute, still smiling, then she said. “Thorin, aren’t you going to sit down?”

He scowled slightly and sat next to Bilbo, who raised his eyebrows and looked back and forth between them.

“You’re actually Officer Lossarnoch, aren’t you?” Thorin asked. 

Her smile broadened. “I was, yes, but I got married. It’s Reid now.” She leaned her chin on her hand. “How’s Faramir?”

“He’s fine.” Thorin looked slightly uncomfortable and Bergil snorted. 

“When was the last time you saw him? In person.”

“I saw him on Thursday,” Bilbo said. “Assuming you’re talking about his manager?”

Bergil’s face bloomed into a full smile and Bilbo realized she’d been using ‘professional’ smiles until now. “Oh excellent, he’s with the firm.”

Thorin sighed. “His father still blames him, but Boromir won’t let Denethor do anything.”

Her face fell. “Still? Dammit, I thought he’d have gotten over that by now.”

Thorin huffed. “Denethor? Let go of something? That might mean admitting he was wrong.”

They shared a look and Bilbo smiled to himself. _It’s nice to see that Thorin does have old friends. I wonder why he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her._

“This Denethor sounds unwelcoming,” he said. “Faramir was quite nice when I met him.”

Thorin turned to him. “You didn’t say you’d met him, when did you?”

Bilbo leaned back a bit and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t tell you everything I do, you know.”

Thorin stiffened and his eyes fell. Bilbo sighed.

“I was at dinner with Nori and Dori at UR – did you know that Bombur has a table in the kitchen?”

Thorin smiled at his lap. “Yeah, it’s where we normally eat. It’s the Family Table.”

 _Well, and isn’t that a thing to think about?_ Bilbo set that thought aside and continued. “So, Nori’d finally made a replacement pie and we decided – well, no. Somehow _Bombur_ decided he should present it to me in a group. I don’t know if it’s because he thinks I’d be too soft on Nori if he’d ruined it, or if he just wanted a slice of pie that someone else made, but anyway. We met for dinner at the restaurant, and Faramir was there.”

Bergil chuckled. “Did he actually say anything?”

“Oh yes,” Bilbo said, surprised. “He’s quite eloquent, actually.”

She nodded. “He must have liked you, then.” She stared at him for a long minute, then nodded. “That speaks well for you. So, let’s get to business, shall we?”

Bilbo turned to her. “I don’t really know anything other than what I’ve already told you.”

She pulled one of her notepads closer. “I still have to ask questions, though.” She glanced at Thorin. “So, Mr Durin, what were you and your friends doing on the Seneca River?”

Thorin licked his lips. “We were boating, and doing a bit of geocaching.”

Her expression was bland. “Geocaching? On the old piers?”

Thorin nodded. “And then there were some sharp noises and Frodo fell into the water. I, uh,” he glanced at Bilbo. “I saw someone standing down the river a bit, on the Northeast Trail. Where the donut shop parking lot opens onto the trail.”

She jotted down something on her pad and asked, without looking up, “Could you identify the person? Do you think they might be another witness?”

Thorin pressed his lips together and was silent long enough for her to look up at him. Suddenly, her face changed. “It was one of the Gogol boys, wasn’t it?”

Thorin’s lips twisted and the lines on his face deepened. “You know as well as I do, Bergil –“ 

She held up a hand. “I do, and in point of absolute fact, I know better than you do. I know your family feud with them goes back to your grandparents, but you guys spent most of your time in New York and then you all scattered. Your father’s the only one who lives here now. You aren’t the only ones who that family has hurt and it’s about time you stopped being so fucking selfish about it.”

Bilbo folded his hands in his lap and tried to look anywhere but Thorin’s face. His cheeks were a hectic red and he looked like he couldn’t decide what to feel. After a moment, he said, his teeth clenched so tightly Bilbo was amazed he could make any sounds at all, “I believe it was Bolg.”

At that, Bergil’s eyes widened. “Himself? Not one of the cousins?”

Thorin nodded. 

“Why’d he risk personal involvement? Are you sure he’s the one you saw?” After staring at him, and then at Bilbo for a moment, she turned back to Thorin. “You weren’t geocaching. What were you looking for?”

Bilbo opened his mouth, but Thorin got there first. “We think Azog stole something from my grandfather and hid it there. We were looking for it.”

“And did you find it?” She looked skeptical.

Thorin looked suddenly sheepish. “You know, I don’t even know for sure. I think Frodo found something, but then everything happened and I haven’t paid attention to the Ark – to anything except getting Frodo to the hospital and getting Bilbo – Professor Baggins – here from California.”

Bergil tapped her lips with a finger. “Are you sure it was Bolg? Was there anyone with him? Did you see a gun?”

Thorin ran a hand over his face. “I think it was him, but it was pretty confused. He looked right at me. So, yes? I did see something metal in his hands, but it wasn’t a rifle or something. He couldn’t have hidden that. I didn’t see anyone else, but I didn’t look for long.”

“When did you get here?” She’d turned to Bilbo. 

“Fili called me on Friday night and I came immediately. We landed early yesterday morning.”

She looked at her notes. “So you weren’t here for any of it.”

“Just the aftermath,” he said dryly. Thorin’s shoulders curled inward and Bilbo sighed.

Bergil glanced back and forth between them, then seemed to realize something, and smiled. “How did your nephew end up friends with this lot, anyway?”

“Oh, um, he won tickets to a show and I had to go along as chaperone.” Bilbo shrugged, smiling. “And things just sort of, well, progressed from there.”

She smiled, a knowing look on her face. “Huh. A romance for the ages, I guess. Anyway,” she stacked her notepads and placed the tablet on top. “I’ll need contact information from you – here and in California – and we’ll need to look at the jacket and his other clothes. I’ll want to interview the other people who were there, if we can arrange that.”

“Most of them will have to go home tomorrow. They were supposed to be flying back today, actually, but this has changed our plans,” Thorin said. “Would written statements from them do, or do you actually need to see them in person.”

She looked thoughtful. “If that’s all I can get, then written statements will have to do. I’ll expect the jacket in person, though.”

On the way to Frodo’s room, Thorin pulled Bilbo aside. “I, ah.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “I know that you said you’ll want to rent a car, but please, I’d love to drive you around, anywhere you want to go.”

Bilbo sighed. “Thorin, I’m not staying long. I have work. I have to go back tomorrow.”

Thorin looked unhappy, but nodded. “I – yes.” 

When they walked into Frodo’s room, Dr Bombadil was waiting for them. “Ah, there you are,” he said. “I’ve checked young Frodo over and he’s as well as can be expected. Still a few concussion effects, so he shouldn’t start anything mentally strenuous for about a week. He’ll have to be diligent about wearing the sling for a week, and then he should be careful with any movement or lifting.”

He handed Bilbo a few slips of paper. “These are prescriptions for pain killers, but he should be able to get by with just ibuprofen or naproxen. These are just in case.”

Bilbo nodded and stuck the papers in his pocket. “Can he fly?”

Bombadil’s brows creased in confusion, then he chuckled. “Sure, just not by flapping his arms.” He nodded at everyone and started to leave the room. 

“Oh, one more thing,” Bilbo said. “I assume this is all covered by my insurance, but how do I check?”

Dr Bombadil looked from Bilbo to Thorin, then said, “Billing is on the second floor. They’ll be able to answer any of your questions.”

After he left, Bilbo turned to Frodo. “I brought you some clothes, kid. Do you need help with them? I found some sweatpants, so you don’t have to worry about zippers.”

Frodo grabbed the bag of clothes and brought it to the bathroom, tossing a “Hey thanks,” over his shoulder.

Thorin crossed his arms. “I know you’ve said that you can’t depend on me, but I’m paying for this. Anything that your insurance isn’t covering – co-pays and everything else. Please don’t argue about it. This is … well, he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my poor choices a long time ago.” He glanced at Bilbo, then directed his gaze at the chair, which held a plastic bag filled with stuff Bilbo couldn’t identify. 

Bilbo started to say something, then stopped. “You know what? That’s fine. Shall we stop into billing on the way back to the car?” 

There was a crashing sound from the bathroom and Bilbo yanked open the door. Frodo was sitting on the toilet, glaring at his socks and at the sling. “I can’t get my socks on with only one hand,” he complained. Bilbo knelt down and started to help, then blinked at Thorin did the same with Frodo’s other foot. 

When Frodo was dressed, Bilbo pulled him in for a big hug. “Don’t do that again, you little rat. You scared the daylights out of me.” Frodo hugged him back, one armed, and huffed a laugh into Bilbo’s shoulder. 

“No problem.”

In the car, Thorin turned to Bilbo. “Do you still want to get a rental car?”

Bilbo rubbed his eyes. “No,” he sighed. “We’re not staying much longer. It’ll be okay.”

In the back seat, Frodo said, “When _are_ we going home? The doctor said I have to stay home from school for a week, but you have to teach, right? And what’s for lunch? I didn’t eat anything in the hospital.”

Bilbo and Thorin laughed. “Okay, kid. We’ll find you something to eat.”

Thorin pressed the button to start the car. “Let’s go to my father’s house. He’ll be happy to make us lunch. I’ll call and – “ He stopped at the expression on Bilbo’s face. “No, honestly, Bilbo. He does like to cook and usually it’s just him in the house. I don’t think I’ve seen him this happy in years.”

Bilbo was paying more attention on the drive from Syracuse to Lysander this time. “It’s pretty,” he said. “I can see why you liked growing up here.”

“Bergil’s right, though. I really was just a holiday visitor. I mean, we spent summers here, but that’s not the same thing.”

Bilbo crossed his arms. “What was all of that about Faramir, anyway?”

Thorin’s eyes flicked to him, then the rear view mirror, then back to the road. “It’s sort of a long story. We’re nearly home – I’ll tell you later?”

Everyone was very happy to see Frodo. Thrain had made two types of salad, three types of quiche, and a large pan of brownies; as everyone sat around the table eating and chattering, he looked around and Bilbo felt something in his chest twist at the look of pleasure on Thrain’s face as he watched his guests. Thorin caught Bilbo’s eye and looked away.

“I understand you’re an accomplished cook yourself, Professor,” Thrain said, smiling.

Bilbo swallowed his last bite of quiche. “Oh, call me Bilbo, please. I do enjoy cooking. I’m nothing like professional, but I like to experiment a bit.”

Thrain set his utensils across his now-empty plate and leaned forward. “Perhaps you’d enjoy using the kitchen during your stay. Please feel free to avail yourself of anything, and don’t hesitate to ask for something you’d like to have.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, “but we’ll be leaving tomorrow, with the rest. I’m afraid I’ve got to get back to work. As it is I’ll have to have someone cover my classes tomorrow. Which reminds me,” he stood up. “Thorin, is there wifi? I’ll need to make some emails.”

Thrain tipped his head back. “The wifi is called gizli magara, the password’s anahtar. I thought you were staying for the week?” He glanced towards Thorin, who was staring at his plate.

“I’m very sorry to disappoint, but I really must get back to work. I’ll have to miss tomorrow, obviously, but my students are depending on me, and I can’t let them down.” Upstairs, in his bedroom, Bilbo sat down and opened his laptop.

He sent a quick email to Gandalf, asking if he could find someone to cover Bilbo’s Monday classes. Then he sent group emails to his students, explaining that a sudden emergency was forcing him to miss the first day of classes. Next, he emailed Ori, saying the same thing, but giving more detail and promising to explain everything when he was home. Finally, he emailed his parents; he found it hard to write this email, as he kept dissolving into longwinded complicated explanations of everything. Finally, he just gave a basic run-down of what had happened and said he’d call when he got home.

Thorin knocked on the bedroom door as Bilbo was finishing his parents’ email.

“I found something out,” he said, closing the door behind himself. “I was going through the stuff Frodo found – oh, here’s the Arkenstone, by the way.” He dropped a large pale white translucent gem onto the bed. It looked like the photographs, but they hadn’t managed to capture the way the stone caught the light and sent shards of fiery rainbows around the room. 

“That’s beautiful,” Bilbo said. “Do you know what stone it is?”

Thorin shook his head. “That’s not important right now. I found something else.” He sat down and held out an envelope. “I found physical proof that Azog was involved with … “ He paused. “Well, with something really awful from many years ago. There’s proof in here that he masterminded the murder of a young boy.”


	77. Seventy Seven – Ups and Downs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's beginning to feel a bit like a yo-yo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am NOT okay about Prince. What a blow. :(

Bilbo sank back into the seat and stared at Thorin. “You’re talking about the little brother, right? Oh, I don’t remember her name – Holly or something, right?”

Thorin paled, stepping backward. “I – Heather, her name is Heather. How do you know?”

Bilbo rubbed his eyes. “Dwalin told me.”

Thorin sat on the edge of the bed, his face still pale and his hands shaking slightly. “Dwalin told you.” He licked his lips. “What did he tell you?”

“He said something about Azog having the little brother of a woman you were going to marry killed.” He paused, then shook his head. “That … sounds wrong. I mean, Azog organized the murder of a boy who was the younger brother of the woman you were engaged to.”

Thorin nodded, but he looked as if he weren’t quite paying attention. “That’s right.” He blinked several times and shifted on the bed. 

Bilbo sighed. “So, you’re going to give this evidence to Officer Reid, right? She’s the one who needs it.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a new email pop up on his computer screen. 

Thorin jerked back. “Give it to .. .why would I do that?”

“Because she’s a cop? I – Thorin, why _wouldn’t_ you give her the evidence?” After a moment watching expressions flit across Thorin’s face, Bilbo asked, “What is the evidence, anyway?”

Thorin looked down at his hands, which Bilbo only now noticed were holding a narrow brown envelope. “I think it’s the knife,” Thorin said softly. 

Bilbo flinched. “Uh. Right. And … knife. Okay. Why do you think this is proof that Azog was involved?”

Thorin looked at the envelope. “There was more stuff in the packet – a couple of notes from Azog to his brothers, and some other things.” 

Bilbo felt cold rush down his arms. “Have you _touched_ it?”

Thorin looked up at him, his eyes dull. “I touched the envelope.” He held it out toward Bilbo, who retreated again. “But I didn’t touch the knife or the other stuff.”

“How do you know it’s proof that Azog was involved if you didn’t touch it?”

“I gave Azog this knife when we were fifteen.” Thorin shrugged and looked away from Bilbo. “He never let anyone else touch it. There’s no way that his brothers got it without his knowing about it.”

Bilbo leaned forward, trying to catch Thorin’s eyes again. “You have to give all of this to Bergil. She can see that it’s used to stop Azog.” 

Thorin’s lips pressed together. “The police in this town, and most of the cops in Syracuse, are being paid off by the Gogol family. Azog’s family made their money the same way the Kennedys did.” He looked at the envelope again. “Our grandfathers got along well and I think they were happy we were friends. I don’t know if my grandfather really knew what Azog’s did.”

Bilbo started to say something, but was interrupted by a huge yawn. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t make this decision for you, Thorin, but you can’t do anything on your own. And if you have the evidence and _don’t_ turn it in, then you’ll be guilty by association. You can’t keep it, no matter how much it –“ He broke off, not sure he should say what he was thinking. “No matter how much it reminds you of better times.”

Thorin’s head snapped up. His eyes were blazing. “Is that what you think?” He stood, his hands crushing the envelope around the knife inside it. “That this –“ He thrust the knife in Bilbo’s direction. “That there’s anything good to remember? That this fucking knife, coated in the blood of an _innocent boy_ , killed because I couldn’t say ‘no’ strongly enough to a fucking asshole means anything positive to me?”

Bilbo closed his eyes. “No, Thorin,” he sighed. “I don’t think that, but I don’t understand why you won’t just give it to the police. Yes, you’ve said that Azog’s family’s bribing them, but they can’t be bribing _all_ of them. Azog’s brothers were convicted, so there must be some good cops and judges here.” Thorin was silent and Bilbo opened his eyes again. “I’m sorry that I implied that you think this is good. I just …” He looked at his hands, twisted together in his lap. “I don’t know what to think.”

Thorin was rigid in the center of the room. His face was contorted into an expression of deep sorrow. “I wish I’d never met Azog. I wish I’d had the strength to tell him to leave me alone – and follow through on it. I wish I’d been able to marry Heather. I wish …” He trailed off, looking from Bilbo’s face to the crushed envelope he held. “I wish we hadn’t met.” 

The sound of the door closing was the next thing Bilbo heard. The sharp click made him jump in his chair. “Well,” he said, “that’s not what I expected.” He stood and wiped his palms on his pants. “Good to know, I guess.”

Bilbo brushed his teeth and washed his face – he felt unexpectedly sticky – then sat on the bed. He’d been tired when he started writing the emails, but now he didn’t feel tired. He didn’t feel anything much. He stood and started to unbutton his shirt, then remembered that there’d been a new email. 

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: BellaBaggins_

_OMG, Bilbo! Frodo’s okay? You’re okay? What happened? Are Sam and the others okay?_

_…No, tell me when you get home, you’re right. Did you drive yourself to the airport? Will you need a ride home? Your dad and I can come and stay with you two for a few days, if you want._

_I love you. We love you. Both of you._

_Mom  
_

Bilbo felt tears rise. He blinked hard, then started typing. 

_To: BellaBaggins  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Mom,_

_I would love it if you and Dad stayed with us. We will need a ride – I think we get in at about 10pm tomorrow. Delta. I’ll find the flight number for you tomorrow and text you. Frodo’s fine, we’re all fine, but he has to stay home from school for the week, so having you stay would be spectacular._

_Thank you. I love you too._

_Bilbo  
_

Bilbo closed his laptop and stood, unsure, in the center of the room. He didn’t want to go to bed. He rubbed his face and looked into the hallway. It was empty and he moved carefully down the stairs toward the kitchen. _Thorin’s father said I could use the kitchen. Maybe I’ll make a cup of tea or something. That’ll help._

There was a low light on in kitchen and Bilbo stopped and peeked around the door. Thorin sat at the table, the contents of the envelope scattered across the table. He was taking pictures of everything with his phone and making notes on a pad of paper. 

“That’s from Gerry,” he muttered, “so it goes with that stack.” He picked up a piece of paper, folding it and sliding it into an envelope. Bilbo twitched at seeing him touch the paper, then relaxed when he saw that Thorin’s hands were the bright blue of nitrile gloves. As he watched, Thorin recorded and sorted several more items. 

“Do you really think this will work?” 

Bilbo flinched back, but the voice wasn’t coming from behind him. After a second, during which he thought his heart might just leap straight out of his mouth, Bilbo leaned forward again. 

Thrain was sitting at the opposite side of the table from Thorin. He’d been hidden in the dark. Thorin leaned on the table and his head fell forward, sagging down. 

“I don’t know, Dad, but we can’t just keep this. And we can’t keep letting them get away with this.” His voice was hoarse.

“They’ll drag you through the mud, Thorin. They’ll drag _this family_ through the mud. The publicity will be devastating. I don’t know that the firm can support you in this.” Thrain paused and leaned forward. The light caught on the wire frames of his glasses as he took them off and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “And what about that nice man, Bilbo? What will he think about having his name – and professional reputation, and that of his nephew – connected to such a sordid trial?”

Bilbo saw Thorin’s shoulders tighten and his hands curl into fists. “I don’t care if the firm ‘supports’ me or not, Dad. I haven’t been part of your fucking company since – “ His breath hissed in. “I’m doing this, and there’s nothing you can say which will stop me. This is more important than anything I’ve done. And … Bilbo’s not involved. He’s safe.”

Bilbo felt the same rush of cold up and down his arms that he had when he’d thought that Thorin might have touched the evidence with bare hands. _Safe? Is that what he thinks? Frodo got shot for this. We’re not safe. We won’t be until everyone involved in this is in prison._ He backed slowly down the hall and paused at the foot of the stairs. _What the hell did he mean by wishing we hadn’t met?_ He stood in the dark and pressed his fingers into his eyes, wishing his head wasn’t starting to pound. 

He took a deep breath and walked back toward the kitchen, making sure to make noise. He turned into the kitchen and stopped with a smile. “Oh, there you are, Thorin,” Bilbo said, trying to keep his voice even and light. “I was wondering where you’d got off to. I can’t sleep – your father said I could use the kitchen. Do you think he’d mind if I made a cup of tea?” 

“I would be honored,” Thrain said, standing up from his seat. Bilbo felt the skin on his back tighten; Thrain sounded every inch the slightly European gentleman now, but his voice when he’d been talking to Thorin had been much less kind. As Thrain showed Bilbo the kettle and took out a large mug for him, Bilbo worked at keeping up a stream of general chatter. For one second, while Thrain’s back was to him, he glanced at Thorin. 

Thorin was looking at him with such agony and longing that Bilbo felt his breath stop. _Ah._

Eventually the tea was made; Thrain bowed slightly over Bilbo’s hand as he excused himself. Bilbo waited twenty heartbeats, then turned to Thorin.

“Would you like a cup of tea? I think I know where everything is.” He kept his voice bright. 

Thorin was leaning back against the table; his hands clenched tightly around the edge. “Bilbo,” he whispered, “you should be upstairs in bed. I … please.”

Bilbo nodded. “Yes, you certainly do need a cup of tea. You sound quite distressed and I can see why, after looking through all of that. I don’t think you need anything caffeinated, though. Do you think there’s anything like chamomile?” He opened the cupboard Thrain had taken his own tea from.

“There’s a chamomile-anise in the back,” Thorin said, sounding defeated. 

“Hmm, that sounds nice,” Bilbo said, setting up a mug. “When this is all done and you’re all done with your record keeping there, let’s go upstairs, shall we?”

“I – “ Thorin coughed. “I’m done with this. I’ll just put it all back into the packet we found it in.” Bilbo heard shuffling but pretended interest in the kettle. 

“Once you’ve got it all put away, why don’t you bring it upstairs with us? It’s very late and we’re both tired.” Bilbo put a healthy spoonful of honey into Thorin’s tea, then turned to face him, hands full of tea mugs. “Your father won’t mind if we drink these up in our bedroom, will he?” He led the way out of the kitchen, ignoring the slight sound he heard from near the stairs. 

In the upstairs hallway, Bilbo gestured with his full hands. “You’ll have to get the door, I’m afraid.” Thorin held the door open but flinched back from Bilbo as Bilbo walked through it; he hesitated in the door, but Bilbo turned and said, “You left your toothbrush here last night, so you won’t have to go get it. Close the door after you come in.”

Thorin stood with his back against the door, eyeing Bilbo warily. Bilbo set the cups of tea down on the table and crossed his arms.

“Now,” he said, in more normal tones. “Why don’t you tell me just what, exactly, you think you’re playing at.”

Thorin opened his mouth, then closed it. Bilbo just raised his eyebrows, feeling suddenly as if he were dealing with Frodo in one of his less communicative moments. _Funny how people revert to being teenagers._

“If I do what you want, Bilbo, there’ll be very public hell to pay,” Thorin finally said. “You shouldn’t be involved in this.”

“Ah yes, but do you think that you get to just choose _for_ me?”

“No, but … this doesn’t concern you. If you just stay away, you’ll be safe. You aren’t a witness to anything, so there won’t be anything for anyone to contact you about. The gossip rags will ignore you again.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo said, sitting down and sipping his tea. “I’m not safe. Frodo isn’t safe. He was shot because Azog’s son thought he was involved. Do you really think that threat will magically go away if you dump me? And if you’re worried about me being stalked by the Orc Horde, that’s already happening.” He felt a wave of fatigue and nearly smiled. _I might get some sleep tonight._ “And if you dump me, I’ll still be at risk of being shot by one of Azog’s thugs and of being hounded by the gossip sites, but I won’t even have the benefit of spending time with you to balance it out.”

Thorin took a step into the room. “You shouldn’t want to spend time with me.”

Bilbo nodded. “I know. You’re heavy-handed, overbearing, overly protective, and something of an asshole. I am still very angry at you for how you’re dealing with all of this, but everyone in your family thinks that I should give you a second chance.”

_And I love you and I don’t think that’s going to change any time soon._

Thorin set the packet down on the table next to Bilbo’s laptop. “My family is a bunch of meddling busybodies.” He looked sour, but his eyes searched Bilbo’s.

“That’s how you can tell they love you,” Bilbo said, thinking of his mother’s tendency to try to fix things in his own life.


	78. Seventy Eight – It's Easier to Talk in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make it home in one piece. Well, except for Frodo, who's still in two pieces. But home again, jiggity jig.

"Sit down, Thorin," Bilbo said, "before you fall down."

Thorin collapsed into the chair opposite Bilbo and rested his chin in his hands. "I don't understand."

Bilbo rubbed his face. "Which part? Oh, don't answer. Look, you're giving the stuff to Bergil, that's good, and I think recording what was in the packet is also good." He glanced at the bed. The Arkenstone still sat in the center, hidden slightly in the duvet. "What are you going to do with the Arkenstone?"

Thorin shrugged. "I don't know. It doesn't really belong with the rest of the stuff – it’s not part of the murder evidence."

"Well, I don't think that Smaug should have it," Bilbo said, sipping his tea.

"Of course not," Thorin snapped. "It doesn't belong to him."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "It doesn't belong to you."

Thorin stared at him, mouth slightly open, then he chuckled and shook his head. "No, it doesn't. I don't even know where my grandfather got it."

"He focused on Turkey, right, so maybe there?" 

Thorin shook his head. "I don't think so. He always treated it as if it were special and the stuff from his own digs were more, I don't know, workaday?"

Bilbo nodded. "Well, we won't figure it out tonight, that's for sure. Bring it home with you for now. It's waited a long time to find a home, it can wait a bit more." He yawned. "Are you nearly done with your tea? Only I'm really tired and I want to go to bed."

Thorin shot to his feet. "Oh, I'll go to my – "

"Ah, no." Bilbo leaned forward and reached a hand toward Thorin. "No, I think you should stay here tonight. And honestly, I think we should put that," he nodded toward the packet of evidence. "In my bag."

Thorin looked confused. "You … want me to stay with you?"

Bilbo sighed. " _That's_ the part you have questions about? Yes, Thorin, I want you to stay here."

Thorin brightened. "That's … okay. Okay, I will."

"And you'll put that envelope in my bag with my laptop?" Bilbo stood, stretching. "I'm going to bed, now. Are you coming?"

It wasn't long before they were in bed, the lights out and the covers tucked tightly around Thorin's shoulders. Bilbo sighed, wriggling backward until he was pressed as tightly to Thorin's chest as possible. 

"You're nice and warm," Bilbo murmured. "When will we have to leave for the flight tomorrow?"

Thorin slid an arm around Bilbo's waist; it felt tentative, as if it weren't sure of its welcome. "The flight leaves at 5:40, right? So if we want to be there a couple of hours ahead, maybe 3ish?" He buried his nose into Bilbo's hair and Bilbo smiled. "I'm not going with you. I have to meet with Bergil."

Bilbo nodded. "True. I'll have a good time, I'm sure, with the kids. Fili and the rest are coming, right?"

"Mhm," Thorin grunted. "Yes." His hand flattened against Bilbo's stomach and he started to rub gently. "Fili will arrange for you to have a car home."

"No need," Bilbo said, yawning. "My mom's picking us up." He shifted a bit, then pulled Thorin's hand up to his chest, curling his own fingers through Thorin's. "They're staying with us for a week, to keep an eye on Frodo."

Thorin's thumb rubbed back and forth along Bilbo's collar bone. "Good. I'll feel better knowing you have someone helping you." 

Bilbo was drifting, feeling warm and relaxed. Thorin's chest rose and fell behind him, their legs tangled together, and his breath was warm on Bilbo's head. 

"I wonder how she's doing, sometimes." Thorin's voice was so quiet that Bilbo, well on the way to sleep, nearly missed it. "I don't want to be with her anymore – in the long view, we wouldn't have done well together, but still. She didn't deserve what Azog did and neither did her brother. They were entirely un-involved."

Bilbo wasn't sure Thorin even knew he was awake or if he should respond. He sighed. "I'm so sorry."

Thorin shrugged, dragging his chest hair against Bilbo's back. "It's long ago, and I wasn't kidding. She and I wouldn't have lasted 5 years together. Azog's …" Thorin's breath hitched. "He just ruins things."

Bilbo thought about his few interactions with Azog, however attenuated and at a distance. "I'll say. He's a one asshole demolitions team."

Thorin huffed a laugh into Bilbo's hair. "I'd say that I'm sorry I got you involved, and I am, oh god, Bilbo I wish you'd let me keep you safe – " 

"There _isn't_ any safe place." Bilbo heaved himself over to face Thorin, although it was pointless in the dark room. "Until Azog and his family are in jail, I'll never be safe. Especially if he knows he can manipulate you by threatening me. That's why you stopped spending time with me, isn't it?"

Thorin pulled his arm back and wrapped it around his own chest, but Bilbo tugged at it and shoved it back over his waist.

"Don't do this, Thorin. We can't … look, do you want to be in a relationship with me?"

The room was silent and Bilbo felt his chest squeeze. Then Thorin exploded with, "Oh god yes. Bilbo, I just … it's – "

Bilbo put a hand over Thorin's mouth. "Stop. It's okay, Thorin, I want to be with you, too. But there are some things we have to work on and one of them is your damned silences. You have to _talk to me_ about things."

Thorin kissed Bilbo's fingers. Bilbo could feel him smiling under his hand. 

"Okay," Bilbo said, smiling himself. "So let's try this again. You stopped seeing me after New Years – not because of Frodo's parents dying, which is what Frodo thinks, but because Azog threatened us?"

Thorin pulled Bilbo's hand away and held it against his chest, covered with his own hand. "Shit, Frodo thinks that?"

"Yes, of course." Bilbo carefully rubbed Thorin with his fingertips. "New Years was the last time we saw you regularly. You came to the Going Away party and you, uh, _crashed_ the Welcome Home party, but you sort of disappeared right after New Years."

"It wasn't Azog." Thorin's voice was practically inaudible.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that?" Bilbo stilled.

Thorin cleared his throat. "It wasn't Azog who threatened you. It was Smaug."

Bilbo pulled back, trying to look at Thorin and failing in the dark room. " _Smaug_? The self-important jerk who's pretending to be Albanian royalty?"

Thorin nodded. "He said he'd get your publisher to drop you and have you blackballed in the industry."

Bilbo snorted. "I'd like to see him try. Do you really think that Nori would give in? Or that his company would? And, well, not to blow my own horn much, but the books are pretty popular. I wouldn't be blackballed, no matter what Smaug thinks he can do."

Thorin slumped forward against Bilbo. "I just wanted to protect you."

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "And that's another thing we have to – well _you_ have to work on. I don't need _protecting_. I'm not a child, or a damsel in distress. I need a partner, someone who sees me as equally able and capable. NOT someone who'll dump me without thinking about what _I_ might want."

Thorin was perfectly still for a moment. "I do think you're capable."

"Uh huh. We can talk about this later, but you have to stop choosing _for_ me." 

Thorin nodded against Bilbo's shoulder, "Okay."

Bilbo smiled and shook his head. "Go to sleep. I've got a long day tomorrow."

Thorin lifted his head, holding it up near Bilbo's. He leaned forward carefully, then Bilbo tipped his own head up and met him halfway. The feeling of Thorin finally kissing him again made Bilbo's skin prickle and tingle. 

Thorin groaned, pulling Bilbo close; kissing him deeply, then pressing more kisses to his cheeks and eyes and face. "I missed you so much," he muttered, burying his face in the curve of Bilbo's neck. 

Bilbo chuckled and nodded. "I missed you, too. Now let's go to sleep."

The next morning was chaotic and confused. Merry didn't have room in his bag for the things he'd bought, and spent an hour trying to get one of the other kids to let him shove his extras in their luggage. Finally, Bilbo looked at Thorin and shook his head, saying, "I'll need to get a bag for the clothes Thorin got for me. I'll get one big enough for your stuff as well."

In the car, on the way to a sports shop, Thorin said, "I called Bergil. I've got an appointment for after I drop you off."

"Good," Bilbo said. "What are you going to tell her?" Outside, the neighborhood shifted from small-town residential to small-town 'downtown'. They pulled up in front of a small shop called _Natural Sprinters_ and got out. 

"I don't know," Thorin said. "I thought I'd start by giving her the stuff." He glanced around at the other people walking down the street. "Come on, let's get you a bag."

At the airport, everyone piled out onto the sidewalk and started piling up bags. Bilbo tossed his new duffle bag into the stack and turned back to Thorin, giving him a big hug. 

"I'll be on a flight soon," Thorin whispered. 

Bilbo turned back to the group, catching Fili looking hard at Thorin; Thorin's shoulders slumped. _I wonder if I should stick my nose in that._ Fili then looked at Bilbo and smiled, broad and sunny and Bilbo just shook his head. _Probably not._

Gimli was handing out luggage tags he'd taken from the airline attendant at the outside baggage check station. Legolas, at his side, had a handful of pens and was laughing at something Kili had said. Bilbo took a pen and a couple of tags and started filling them out. He tied one with his name onto the new bag, then looked through the pile for Frodo's. 

When he was finished, Sam nudged him and pointed. Thorin was standing, one hand on Frodo's good shoulder, leaning down a bit so he could look into Frodo's downturned face. Thorin was speaking in low tones, his free hand clenching and unclenching. Finally, Frodo nodded and Thorin let him go, but Bilbo could see that he looked miserable. Bilbo and Sam looked at each other.

Sam sighed. "He'll get over it. He likes Thorin."

Thorin drove off soon after, and Bilbo followed the rest of the crowd through the airport. Getting the kids through security was an exercise in enforced patience; Bilbo was glad the Syracuse airport was small and the security staff friendly after Pippin asked if they'd ever caught any terrorists.

Bilbo had expected to be able to board early because of Frodo's broken collarbone, but to his surprise, they were all booked into first class. He turned to Fili, who just sent him a slightly twisted smile from his seat. 

The real benefits of first class didn't start until the layover, when they changed planes and suddenly had much more room. Bilbo sat next to Fili when the flight started.

"What was that about, at the airport when Thorin dropped us off?" 

Fili looked at his can of soda and shrugged. "I was thinking about what you'd said. That if Thorin really wanted to be there for you, he would be. You were right. You _are_ right. And what he did hurt you. It didn't help that the rest of us were sort of forcing you to take him back when really we should have been making him apologize."

Bilbo stared at him. "Thank you, Fili. That's … that's very thoughtful of you."

"So, I'm happy if you're together again, but I don't want you to get back together with him just because it's … I don't know, easy or because he helped with Frodo."

"Here's your tea, sir," the attendant said, putting a small teapot with hot water down in front of Bilbo. "There are a variety of teas in this box." He set down a clear plastic box; Bilbo could see an assortment of teabags through the lid. "And here's your mug, with milk and sweeteners."

"Thank you," Bilbo said. "This looks quite luxurious." As the flight attendant walked away, Bilbo turned back to Fili. "I'm not. I mean, I'm not going to get back together with Thorin just because it's easy." He laughed a bit and put a bag of organic earl grey tea into the mug, pouring hot water onto it. "It's not easy, in fact. He doesn't make things easy."

Fili snorted. "No." He glanced at Kili, sitting with Tauriel. She was smiling, but she looked tense. "None of us Durins do."

"You know you're not your family, right?" Bilbo stirred sugar into his tea.

"I know, but," Fili shrugged. "Family shapes who we are, so, we sort of _are_ our family. Even if we don't always want to be."

Bungo was smiling at them as they came through the gate. He hugged Bilbo, then rubbed Frodo's arm. "Good to see you. I hear you had an exciting trip."

Frodo nodded. "I did. There was so much cool stuff, and I got something for Auntie Bella." 

Bungo grinned. "She'll like that. I hope it's something completely frivolous." They strolled to the baggage carousel and Frodo went to stand with Sam and the other teenagers. Bungo's expression was less cheerful as he looked at them. "He looks pale, still."

Bilbo hugged him again. "I'm so glad to see you, Dad. I've got a lot to talk to you and Mom about."

His father looked at him searchingly. "Okay. Your mom's waiting at home so there will be hot drinks as soon as we get there."

Bilbo sighed. _Mom's hot chocolate._ "I can't wait."


	79. Seventy Nine – Now What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's parents' reactions aren't quite what he expected, then he runs into someone unexpected while at Lorien.

Hamfast and Bell were in the kitchen with Bella when Bilbo and the rest came home. The next half hour was spent in happy chatter, with the kids talking over each other about how the trip had gone.

Bilbo noticed that his mother was quieter than usual, so he sidled around the room to stand next to her, near the stove, where she was making a second batch of hot chocolate. 

"Hi mom. Thank you so much for helping out." 

She smiled at him and gave him a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and squeezing. "Anything you need, you know that." They stood together for a moment, then she released him and stirred the milk. "How are you?" 

He looked into his still half-full mug. "I'm okay. Tired. It's been an exciting few days."

She looked up at him, but then was interrupted by Hamfast.

"We're going home. Thank you, Bilbo, for taking such good care of Sam. And I'm sorry about Frodo's shoulder." He clapped Bilbo on his back, then he and his family bustled out the kitchen door. Frodo slumped at the table. He was leaning on Bungo, his eyes half closed. 

"All right," Bella said, moving the pot of milk off the burner. "Time for bed for you, young man." She helped him up, then followed closely behind him as he stumbled down the hallway. Bilbo watched them go, then put the milk on the heat again. When it was simmering, he stirred in the chocolate and whisked it carefully to make sure there weren't any surprise lumps of powder. 

"You can add something to that," Bella said, coming back through the door and collapsing into the chair Frodo had been in. Bungo rubbed her arm and she smiled at him. Bilbo sighed and pulled out the bottle of Cointreau and set it on the table. Bungo smiled at him and waggled his eyebrows.

"Now," Bella said, when everyone had a mug of chocolate. She poured a dollop of liqueur into her cup and handed the bottle to Bungo. "Tell us everything that happened."

Bilbo ran a hand over his face. He poured a healthy serving of the Cointreau into his cup, then tipped the bottle to see how much was left. "Oh to hell with it," he said, and poured the last of it in. "So, let's see. Where do I start?"

"With the shooting?" Bungo's voice was dry.

Bilbo closed his eyes. "Thorin says that he recognized the man who … who shot Frodo. He says it's Azog's son. He's got some bizarre name like Blog or something, I don't remember." He took a sip of chocolate flavored orange alcohol and coughed. "You remember about Azog, right? Well, it turns out that there's a lot more to what's between him and Thorin than I knew."

He drew a deep breath and started trying to explain the relationship between the two men, backing up and filling things in as his parents asked questions. Finally, Bella sat back and pulled her fingers through her hair.

"Okay, let me see if I have this straight. First, Thorin's grandfather stole things from the archeological digs he was on. Second, somehow he ended up with a large gem, origin and provenance unknown, which Azog later stole." She was ticking things off on her fingers as she spoke. "Third, Azog has been subjecting Thorin to mental and emotional abuse for as long as they've known each other, and no one in Thorin's life chose to stand up for him or teach him how to deal with it or chose to deal with Azog directly."

Bungo chuckled. "That's 'third' and 'fourth', I'd say." 

Bella nodded at him. "True enough. Fifth, Thorin only managed to cut ties to Azog after Azog – " She choked for a second, then continued. "After Azog had his brothers murder the younger brother of the woman Thorin wanted to marry. Sixth, Azog has continued a campaign of harassment against anyone Thorin becomes involved with." She paused and stared blankly at the wall for a moment. "Does anyone know if he's ever gotten married?"

Bilbo sat back, thinking. "I don't know. I didn't ask, honestly. I can look him up, though." He checked in on Frodo on his way back to the kitchen with his laptop – the teenager was lying on his back, one arm thrown over his head, his phone lying on the floor where he'd dropped it when he fell asleep. Bilbo snorted softly and snuck into the room to plug in Frodo's phone. "G'night, kiddo," he whispered.

In the kitchen, he typed 'Azog Gogol' into Google and drained his mug while waiting for the results to show up. "Huh. Azog Gogol, wiki. Okay, let's try that."

"Sixth – " 

"Seventh," Bungo said. 

Bella shot him a sharp look, then shook her head. "Counting. Pfah. _Seventh_ , Meriadoc Brandybuck somehow figures out that Azog stole the stone, so they all go to Thorin's home town in New York State to go find it."

"Says here that he's married, but there's no name given for his wife. He's got more than just the one kid, though. Ah, his son's name is Bolg," Bilbo said, reading from the wiki page.

Bella's head snapped up. "Bolg? Like the mythical Irish spear?"

"The what?" 

Bungo coughed and said, "That's a nasty name to give your kid. Look up Gae Bolg. It should show up there."

Bilbo stared at the screen. "Spear of Mortal Death? That's like naming your kid Bren Gun. What the hell?"

Bella sat with her head in her hands. "You know what, I think we should go to bed. This isn't going to make sense tonight." She stood and stretched. "We've already set up in the back bedroom. I'll make you breakfast tomorrow morning. What's your schedule like this quarter?"

"Mom, you don't – " Bilbo tried, but Bungo just laughed as Bella glared at her son. "Okay, okay." Bilbo put his hands up in surrender. "Mondays and Wednesdays I've class at 10, then I'll have to be on campus until at least 3. Tuesdays and Thursdays I have planned to work in Berkeley at Lorien. Friday I don't have class, but I'll be on campus anyway. I might be able to skip this week, if I have to."

Bella nodded. "Okay, so breakfast tomorrow but you probably won't need lunch. I'll make a frittata for dinner, with a salad."

Bilbo hugged her. "That sounds great, mom. Thank you so much."

As he crawled into bed, he thought it might take him a while to fall asleep, but he barely made it beneath the covers before the alarm went off the next morning. 

"Oh god," he groaned. "I don't waaaaannna." After a few seconds lying in bed, he dragged himself to the shower. Later, clean and dressed, he walked down the hall to the kitchen. Bella was standing at the kitchen window looking out over his yard.

"Good morning, little bee," she said, smiling at his reflection in the glass. "There's coffee."

"Beverage of the gods," Bilbo said, pouring himself a cup. "Thank you." 

"I know we didn't really talk about it," she said, moving slowly to the stove, where there was a covered pan sitting over low heat. "But, you're not going to get back together with Thorin, are you?"

Bilbo sat down hard in the chair. He took a sip of coffee, using the time to gather his thoughts. "I, ah. Not immediately."

"Good," she said, turning with two bowls with large servings of steel-cut oatmeal swimming with cream, butter, and dried fruit. "Because I'm not sure he's really a good person for you to be with." She held up a hand. "I know he's been through a lot, but really, he clearly hasn't gotten over the relationship with Azog, and also, he doesn't seem to be…" She took a few small, quick bites of her porridge. "Instead of choosing to stand by you when there was trouble and you might need him, he left. I think I understand – he thought he was protecting you from Azog by leaving, but in the end, you're still vulnerable."

Bilbo stared at his bowl, suddenly not at all hungry. "Actually," he said, "that's not why he left."

She raised her eyebrows and looked expectant. "That doesn't really make it better."

"I mean, he did think he was protecting me, but not from Azog." Bilbo felt like he was sixteen again and trying to explain why he'd stayed out later than he'd said he would. 

"You're in danger from someone else?"

Bilbo sighed. "Apparently, Smaug told Thorin that he'd get my writing contract stopped or blocked or something unless Thorin could give him the Arkenstone."

Bella snorted. "As if Nori would stop publishing your books."

"Yes, quite. I told Thorin off for believing Smaug, but …"

"Eat your breakfast," Bella said. "We can discuss this more later." She finished her own breakfast, then shook her head. "Didn't he tell Smaug that he didn't know where the stone was?"

Bilbo shrugged, swallowing his mouthful of food. "I don't know. We didn't talk about it a lot. It was late and we were in bed."

Bella started laughing and Bilbo felt himself blush.

"Not like _that_ , mom, jeez. No, the first night, he just held me. I was having nightmares. Then last – no, night before last, I thought we should put up a united front for his father, so he stayed in my room with me."

Her amusement faded. "United front?" She glanced at the clock. "No, never mind. You have to go. After dinner?"

Bilbo shook his head. "No. After Frodo goes to bed, I think."

"That serious. Okay." She kissed his cheek at the front door. "Have fun at the office, young man. Play nice with the other scientists."

He was working his way through a complex data manipulation for a report when his phone vibrated. 

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_I've talked to Bergil. She said that there are still a couple of things to work on, but she'll get the evidence to the people who prosecuted Azog's brothers.  
_

Bilbo thought for a second.

_From: Bilbo  
To: Thorin_

_Good. I'm sure she knows what to do with it all. I assume you gave her the jacket as well, right? Did she say anything about the shooting?  
_

His phone vibrated again before he had a chance to put it down.

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_She didn't say anything about it, but she did take the jacket. I won't be back for a couple of days. I miss you. Are you okay? How's Frodo?  
_

_From: Bilbo  
To: Thorin_

_We're fine. He was exhausted last night and went to bed after a cup of hot chocolate. I'm okay, but tired. I stayed up with my parents talking.  
_

Bilbo looked at the screen for a few moments, then typed:

_From: Bilbo  
To: Thorin_

_I miss you too.  
_

His phone was silent, so he turned back to Excel, but he couldn’t concentrate, so he stood and rubbed his eyes. "Time for lunch."

In the cafeteria, he ate near one of the windows. The gentle clatter of other peoples' conversations behind him was soothing; he didn't have to be involved with any of it. As he was standing up to bring his tray of empty dishes to the kitchen, someone slipped into the chair across the table.

"Dr Peredhil," Bilbo said, sinking back down into his chair. "What are you doing here?"

Dr Peredhil's face, normally calm, flashed with amusement. "My mother in law works here, and please, call me Elrond. I saw you across the room and thought we should talk before my next appointment with Frodo."

"Your mother in law? Who's – no, never mind, not my business." Bilbo shook his head. "Why did you think we should talk before this Friday?"

"Being in physical danger, especially if it's unexpected and results in injury, can have lasting effects on a person's psyche. It would be good for me to have a basic understanding of the chain of events before I talk to Frodo, so I can help him." He paused and drank from his cup, then continued. "Please understand that I'm not asking for you to tell me anything in breach of confidence."

"How did you know that he was injured?" Bilbo crossed his arms.

Elrond smiled. "As it happens, I'm, ah, acquiantances with someone who's son was with Frodo on the trip to New York. His son mentioned what happened, my aquaintance mentioned it to me – while we were discussing something entirely unrelated, actually. I think he thought I'd let him get away with – " He broke off and looked amused. 

"How did this aquaintance know you're seeing Frodo?"

Suddenly, Elrond appeared concerned. "Oh, no, he doesn't. He told me about his son's story and I put it together with Frodo's information that he would be spending the week in New York." He blinked at Bilbo for a moment, then looked a little embarrassed. "His name is Thranduil – "

Bilbo chuckled. "Oh yes, we've met. So, what did Legolas tell him?"

Elrond shrugged. "He said that they were doing a little geocaching and Frodo was shot, then he fell in the river?"

Bilbo sighed. "That's true, as far as it goes. Mostly. They weren't geocaching, they were looking for a stolen jewel – "

Elrond snorted. "Really? In the middle of upstate New York?"

Bilbo smiled. "Yeah, it sounds pretty unrealistic, but it turns out to be real. They were in a boat and Frodo got shot while climbing an old bridge pier. He broke his collarbone and fell in the water, but is – physically – mostly fine. He seems otherwise okay – oh right, and he's got a minor concussion."

Elrond looked at him, then his brows drew down. "He was shot and only broke his collarbone?"

"Yeah, uh, apparently he was wearing a bulletproof coat."

Elrond sat up straight. "Okay?"

"Long story, but I'd been given one for Christmas and he borrowed it. Which turns out to be a good thing, in the event. Anyway, so that's it, really. He did have a bad moment in the hospital after I got there when he'd forgotten his parents are dead, but the doctor there said that it was probably just because of the concussion."

"Could be," Elrond said. "I think I have the basic sequence of events down. I'll let Frodo tell me the rest. Thank you for filling me in." He stood. "I hope you're doing okay with the recent upheavals."

Bilbo stood again and picked up his tray. He thought of his parents waiting for him at home and smiled. "I think I am, and if not, my mother will make sure I'm wrapped in bubble wrap before she lets me out of the house again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sword thing is real: [Gae Bulg](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G%C3%A1e_Bulg). There's no clear information on what Tolkien wanted the name to mean, but this sounds reasonable for movie!Azog to have named his kid, doesn't it? Yikes.


	80. Eighty –  Cake and Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has a few very interesting conversations. Nothing is decided on, but people certainly have things to say.

Bilbo stopped off at a small wine shop on the way home. _Mom and Dad like Riesling, right?_

He bought two bottles of a Riesling which had a black and white brush painting of a girl on the label as well as a bottle of red wine with a leafless tree trunk on it. He'd spent nearly half an hour in the shop googling each of the red wines, trying to find one that he thought his parents would like, then finally just picked one the clerk told him was good. 

At home, he paused in the foyer and breathed in deeply. The house smelled delicious – his mother had clearly changed her mind about a frittata and had made roast beef, with what smelled like roast vegetables and, if he was lucky, corn bread.

"Hi, mom," he said, setting the paper bag with the wines on the kitchen counter. 

Bella turned from the pot she was peering into and smiled at him. "Hi, kiddo. I decided to make roast beast, I hope that's okay."

"It smells great." He tried to peek over her shoulder into the pot, but she hip checked him. He laughed and pulled the bottles from the bag. "Do you think white or red?"

"Oh, red," Bungo said, coming into the kitchen from the back yard. Frodo followed him and slid the door shut. "Let me see what you got."

While his parents were discussing wine and the rest of dinner, Bilbo hugged Frodo. "How're you doing?" he asked.

Frodo shrugged, then winced. "I'm okay. Staying home isn't as fun as I thought. I can't play any of my games."

Bilbo felt a bit confused. "Why not? Surely you can just – "

"I need two hands for the keyboard and I can't move this one," Frodo said, wiggling his right elbow. "I can't write, I can't play anything which requires two hands, I can't practice on Fili's guitar, I can't …" 

Bilbo snorted. "That does suck, I'm so sorry. At least this gets you out of having to do dishes or clean your room, right?"

Frodo laughed. "Well, yeah, that's good." He sat down at the kitchen table and leaned on his left elbow. "You'll have to cut up my food for me. I'm an invalid."

Over dinner, Bilbo told Frodo that he'd run into Dr Peredhil and that he was looking forward to their next meeting. Frodo looked annoyed.

"Do I still have to meet with him? It's so stupid." He tried to stab a roast carrot with the fork in his left hand, but it rolled away and he glared. "No one else has to talk to a counselor."

Bilbo glanced at his parents, who were carefully observing their own plates. "Yes, you do. I'm know it might seem unnecessary, but it's a good thing for you. He can help you deal with this – especially right now."

"What, the _trauma_ of being shot?" If Frodo didn't have a broken collarbone, Bilbo knew he'd have made extravagant air quotes around the word 'trauma'.

"Yes, actually," Bella said. "And there are many people who could use some good healthy therapy who'll never get it, so –" 

"So I should eat all my food because there are children starving in China, right. Got it." Frodo dropped his fork and stood up. "I'm going to my room. At least I can still Skype."

The three adults watched him go, then sighed deeply. Bilbo chuckled when he realized that they'd done it in unison. 

"I wasn't like that, was I?" He stood and set his plate on top of Frodo's, then gathered his parents' plates as well. 

Bungo smiled up at him. "Oh, nothing like, of course." Bella started to giggle, and Bungo continued. "You just tried to convince us that you were going to go live in the woods in a tiny little house without any electrical power and write stories for a living."

Bilbo shook his head. "I still say that if I had to, I could live like that." He stacked the plates in the dishwasher and shut the door. "Or, well, maybe I'd need electricity." Bella's laugh was rich and Bilbo smiled at his father. 

Bilbo brought the wine bottle to the table and set it down. "Ye gods, I'm tired. This wasn't the holiday week I needed."

Bella divided the remaining wine between their three glasses. "I imagine not. It must have been terrible."

Bilbo slumped in his chair, letting his head dangle over the back. "God, I never want to have a flight like that one again. I didn't let Fili tell me any more about what had happened, so all I knew was that Frodo was alive but had been shot." He rubbed his eyes. "I need a vacation."

"Tahiti is nice," Bungo said, dreamily.

"A magical place," Bilbo said, without thinking about it. Then he snorted and sat up. "Okay, so I have to be at school most of the day tomorrow. I've got class until 3, but office hours after, and I think I've got a morning meeting at 8:30. They'd better provide coffee, is all."

"Do you want me to make you breakfast again?" Bella produced knitting and settled back. 

"I'll be out early, so no, don't get up." Bilbo sipped his wine, then looked at it through the glass. "This isn't bad. I'll have to remember the name."

"Have you heard from Thorin?" Bella's voice was light, but Bilbo heard the undercurrent of tension.

"Yes, he texted me to say that he's talked to the police and given them all the evidence they found. And the jacket." He avoided looking at his mother's face. "He won't be able to get back here for a few more days, he said."

Before Bella could say anything, Bungo leaned forward, placing a hand on hers. "I know that he's got a lot of work to do, but I think you could do a lot worse." He paused and glanced at his wife. "In fact, you have done worse, so there's that. At least this one has your best interests at heart, even if his methods aren't the best."

The corners of Bella's mouth turned down, but she didn't argue. She stared at her knitting for a moment, then bundled it up and stuck it in the large quilted bag at her feet. "I made chocolate cake," she said. "But I haven't iced it yet. I'll just get that started, shall I?"

Bungo watched her bustle away to the fridge. He looked tired, but his eyes were warm and Bilbo felt a rush of envy for the relationship his parents had. _Will I ever get to have even the smallest bit of what they make seem so easy?_

"Cake sounds great. When will it be ready?"

A few minutes later, Bilbo sat in his office and stared at Gmail. 

_To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Thorin,_

_How are you? It's late, I hope you're not still up. How's your father? Are you still there or have you gone to New York City? Have you heard from Bergil?_

_Sorry, that's a lot of questions. My parents are staying here with me for the week that Frodo can't go to school, which is great. Mom's made her Roast Beast, which is amazing. I'm still very tired, though, so I'll be going to bed after we have cake._

_Bilbo  
_

He changed into soft cotton pants and a tee shirt, then his phone chirped.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_It's not so late I can't talk to you. It's never too late for talking to you. I hope you get some sleep, though. I know you didn't really get much rest while you were out here. That … wasn't how I wanted you to meet my father. I wanted to show you around where I grew up. I'm sorry that things were so awful._

_I’m sorry about Azog as well. I know that this is really all my fault. If I'd been able to tell him no earlier, he might never have become so … well, so obsessed. I wish I hadn't let Frodo climb up that damned pier._

_Bilbo, I've been thinking. I don't know if you should be with me. I don't seem to be good for you. Just because you make me happy doesn't mean that you have to be with me. I don't want you to feel, I don't know, obligated. You should put yourself first._

_I'm yours, from now to the end of the world, but I don't want you to be trapped._

_Thorin  
_

Bilbo stared at his phone. _Oh for crying…_

_To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_So you're running away again?  
_

He dropped his phone on the nightstand and stalked down the hall. _Cake sounds great. Cake and another glass of fucking wine._

Frodo was already in the kitchen, laughing while he tried to ice a section of cake with his left hand. After a moment watching, Bilbo stepped behind him and wrapped his right hand around Frodo's left. "Let's do it together, okay?"

Bella smiled at him, then turned to pull out small plates. The cake was dark and rich and Bilbo felt some of his frustration fade away. His parents joked with Frodo and Bilbo found himself suddenly filled with fatigue. 

"I've got to get to bed," he said, standing. "I'll see you guys tomorrow. Do you have plans for the day?"

Bella smiled up him. "I thought we'd go to the MOMA and the Legion of Honor. I haven't been in ages and since Frodo's laid up, he'll be a nice trapped companion."

Frodo snorted, next to her. "Can we go to the gun battery that's near the Legion?"

Bilbo kissed the top of his head, hugged his parents, then went to his bedroom, pausing to brush his teeth on the way. He took off his clothes, then glanced at his phone; the notification light was blinking.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_What? NO!  
_

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_I want you. I want to be with you. I want to be able to see you and touch you and … dammit, Bilbo, I'm sorry. I know I didn't do the right thing._

_I don't want to leave you alone again, but I know that I'm not a great person to be with. I've never managed to make any relationship work.  
_

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Please, Bilbo, I’m sorry. I won't run, I won't, I …_

_Please.  
_

Bilbo stared at the screen. With a sigh that immediately turned into a yawn, he crawled under the covers, still holding his phone. He could hear Thorin's voice saying the last 'please' in the text. Closing his eyes, he dialed Thorin's number.

"Oh god, Bilbo." Thorin's voice was rough and hoarse. "I'm so sorry."

"Stop. Just …" 

Thorin made a small, sharp, high sound. "I – "

"Stop apologizing, Thorin. I can't say 'it's okay', but still. It's okay." Bilbo pulled the covers over his head and rested the phone on his ear. "How are you?"

"Tired," Thorin said quickly. "I was with Bergil for hours, going over things." Bilbo could hear him breathing. "I was surprised at how much she'd already put together about what Azog's been doing. Or, rather his family. She's not sure how connected he is to some of it."

"I still don't understand exactly what his family does – don't tell me now, I can barely stay awake and I think it's important that I know what's going on." Bilbo listened to the sounds of Thorin moving on the other side of the country. "Can we just … talk about something else for a bit?"

"Anything. Did you get the picture of Frodo, Sam, and Rosie? They were so proud of themselves." Thorin's voice shook a little, but Bilbo ignored it. 

"I did." Bilbo smiled, remembering. "Which play did they go see on their own? I can't remember." 

Thorin sounded as if he were smiling as well. " _The King and I_. It's a good production. They went out to dinner after as well." He paused. "Are you okay? Is Frodo?"

"We're fine. I'm just tired. I spent most of the week break doing housework and getting the back yard ready for planting – I'm late for it, but … anyway. And then I got the call from Fili and – " 

"I – you should be in bed." Thorin sounded unhappy. 

"I am in bed," Bilbo said. "Frodo's okay, but bored. He and my mom are planning an assault on the MOMA tomorrow. They'll probably come home with something amusing from the shop." He yawned. "I've got to get to sleep. You should sleep as well, Thorin."

"I will. Soon, I promise. I just want to write a few things down before I do." He paused. "Good night, Bilbo. Sweet dreams."

Bilbo didn't remember having any dreams, but when he woke up he felt much better, as if he'd actually gotten some rest. He turned his phone alarm off, then got out of bed. His mom had set up the coffee machine the night before, so all he had to do was press the button. He filled a large travel mug with a second cup of coffee and trundled off to his meeting.

After the meeting, Gandalf pulled him aside. "Is everything okay with young Frodo?"

"Yes, thank you. He's – he's mostly just bored at home right now. My parents have come down to help keep an eye on him, which is nice for all of us. I think they're planning on going to a few museums while they're here." Bilbo saw Balin standing in the corridor; he looked sharply at Bilbo, then once he'd caught Bilbo's eye, he nodded in the direction of the office he'd been given for his time at the school.

"That's excellent news," Gandalf said. "Please keep me updated on his progress. Perhaps we could all have dinner together this week."

In the hall, Bilbo pushed through the chattering students and slipped into Balin's office. 

"Yes?" Bilbo said. "How did your first seminar go?"

Balin beamed up at him, then gestured to a chair. "Sit down. It was delightful. A young woman had some very insightful questions at the end. I'll have to get her name."

Bilbo smiled. "That's probably Fatima. She was looking forward to your talks." He sighed. "I can't stay long – I've a class in about an hour. Did you want me for something?"

"I wanted to ask after your nephew, Frodo. I heard about what happened and I want to extend my apologies and offer you my assistance if you need it."

Bilbo's brows drew together. "Why would you need to apologize?"

"It has come to my attention that I was mistaken about the nature of the relationship between Thorin and Azog and I might have given you different advice, had I known more of the story."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cake, of course. The icing is linked in the cake recipe. A good friend of mine who lives at the very tippiest top of Scotland says that this IS, in fact, the best chocolate cake ever. I haven't tried it yet, but I've bought the espresso powder for it.
> 
> [Cake](http://addapinch.com/the-best-chocolate-cake-recipe-ever/)


	81. Eighty One – Getting Back Into the Whirl of Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets back to his regularly scheduled life.

Bilbo's confusion must have shown, because Balin chuckled and said, "If I'd known that Azog was a real threat, I might have not been so quick to say you should attempt to reconcile with Thorin. It seems to have turned out tolerably well for now, but…" He shrugged.

"Ah." Bilbo nodded. "So you talked to Dwalin?"

Balin nodded. "He filled me in on some of the history. I had no idea anything like that was happening. I am quite upset with my brother for leaving me in the dark."

Bilbo leaned forward a bit. "It's really Thorin's story, not something Dwalin should be telling everyone. I mean," he shrugged, himself. "It's not really something you have to deal with."

"True, but I regret that my advice might have led to your nephew's injury."

Bilbo smiled. "Well, he's okay, so I think we'll just go from here. We seem to have found a good police officer – her name is Bergil Reid. I think she and Thorin knew each other when they were younger. He thought her name was Lossarnoch, I think."

Balin looked enlightened. "Oh. She did join the police force? That's excellent news. Yes, she'll be very good – her family has always been deeply honorable."

Bilbo checked his watch. "I've got to run – I still have to check something before lecture. I'd love to have you come for dinner, though. My parents are here to help with Frodo and they'd love to see you again, I'm sure."

Balin inclined his head. "That sounds delightful. Shall we say tomorrow evening, then? I know that my wife would skin me alive if I brought guests unexpectedly."

Bilbo laughed. "Oh, my mother loves unexpected guests, but yes, tomorrow would be fine." He jotted down his address on the back of a business card and left, shutting the door behind himself. In the hallway, he ran a hand over his face, then went to his own office. 

Lecture was relatively quiet – it was the beginning of the quarter, so most of the students were just keeping their heads down. He saw Fatima and smiled at her hurried notetaking. 

In the lab, he looked over the reports Ori had left and set up the run for the next iteration of the tests they were doing. Then he went back to his office and sighed. "More grading. What fun."

Behind him, Beorn snorted. "Surely a need to repeat information at infinitum is why you chose this career, right?"

"Oh, absolutely," Bilbo said, then a hush fell over the room as the two men bent over their respective paperwork. 

Dinner that evening was lively. Frodo and Bella had taken roughly a million photographs of various things; Frodo seemed to have been particularly taken by the lily pond outside the De Young museum, as well as some of the large-scale landscapes in that same museum. They'd managed to only buy three things in the museum shop at the MOMA, but one was a book with thick paper which was designed to be cut out and carefully folded together to make a working clock. 

Bungo had made the meal itself, one of Bilbo's childhood favorites, baked pasta with meat sauce. Frodo ate nearly half the dish and Bilbo smiled to see his father's delight at having another child to share the food with. After dinner, when Frodo had trundled off to his room to Skype with his friends, Bilbo leaned back in his chair and took a sip of coffee. 

"Balin Jarnnave is teaching a series of seminars at the school and I've invited him for dinner tomorrow," he said.

Bella looked up from her knitting. "That name is familiar?"

"He was at Thorin's Christmas party," Bilbo said. "He's Thorin's cousin. He does biochemistry."

The next evening, Bella made coq au vin with sauteed onions and mushrooms, and potato rosemary bread. Balin had brought a bottle of white wine and a bouquet of flowers and Bilbo laughed as his mother cheerfully set a cut glass vase with the the flowers in the center of the table. 

"There," she said. "Perfect." 

Conversation over dinner was jovial – Bilbo was pleased to see Frodo taking an interest in the bits and pieces of political discussion Balin and Bungo had. After dinner, Frodo brought a slice of cake larger than his head to his room and the adults adjourned to the living room. Balin ate two slices of the cake and left after getting Bella to promise to email him the recipes.

"He's quite nice," Bungo said. "He's much older than Thorin, isn't he?"

Bella came back into the living room with a pot of tea. "How are they related?"

"Third cousins," Bilbo said. "Their great-grandfathers were brothers. And yeah, dad, I think he's about ten years older than Thorin and Dwalin."

"Ah," Bella looked suddenly enlightened. "He's Dwalin's brother, then? Why does that family go for rhyming names?"

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "As if you have any legs to stand on about weird family names. Just look at dad's family. Sheesh."

That night, he sat in his office and opened Gmail.

_To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Thorin,_

_How was your day? What did you do? When are you coming home?_

_I've had a nice couple of days. Yesterday was busy – my first day back at school, and today your cousin came for dinner. Did I tell you that he's giving a seminar series at my school? Well, he is and it's going quite well. I know that my dean is hoping that Balin would be interested in teaching for a while, but I know that Balin's not going to stay._

_He came for dinner – oh, I said that. Anyway, it was nice to talk to him. He and Dwalin are very different, aren't they? Is Dwalin still out there with you?_

_I have questions about what happened in New York. How did Bolg know you guys would be there? How did he know that Frodo is my nephew? Why was that package in the pier?_

_I know I had more questions, but I'm tired._

_Bilbo  
_

Bilbo stared at the computer screen, thinking guiltily of his story and the writing he should be doing. With a groan, he shut the screen off and went to bed.

Some time in the middle of the night, he woke up. It was dark and he rolled over, trying to figure out what had woken him. There was a sound from outside his bedroom, so he stood in the hall, hoping to hear it again. 

It was Frodo. He was asleep and tangled in his sheets, his arm strapped to his chest but caught underneath himself. His head tossed and he was mumbling something, too indistinctly for Bilbo to hear. 

"No," Frodo said, suddenly. "No, don't. Don't go there, it'll sink."

Bilbo felt his eyes prickle. He crouched by the bed and stroked a hand along Frodo's good arm. "Hey kid," he said softly. "It's okay, Frodo. Wake up, it's just a nightmare." _And what a thing to say, that dreaming about his parents' death is a nightmare. It's not like it won't still be true after he wakes up. Fuck._

Frodo's eyes flickered open. He stiffened, then rolled over. "I'm okay," he said, muffled by the blankets. 

Bilbo sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed Frodo's shoulders. "Of course you are, kiddo, but it's fine if you're not. It's been a hard few months."

Frodo laughed into his pillow and Bilbo thought it sounded a little wet. "You can say that again."

Bilbo smiled. "It's been a hard few months." He was rewarded by a groan from Frodo. "Do you want a glass of water?"

Frodo sat up, struggling a little because of his arm. "Yeah, thanks," he said. Bilbo started to get up, but then saw his parents in the doorway. Bungo was already moving away to get water. Frodo leaned against the wall and yawned.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Nothing doing," Bella said, sitting on his other side and stroking his hair. "I'm surprised you haven't had more nightmares." She paused for a second, then stood back up. "I have something for you, in fact, but I wasn't sure you'd want it. I think it might help, though." She left the room and came back on Bungo's heels. 

When Frodo was done with the water, Bella handed him something small and soft. "He's all cleaned up now, and fixed."

Frodo made a choked sound and buried his face into the soft thing in his hands. Bella sank to the bed next to him and wrapped her arms around him. He turned into her shoulder and started crying. 

"How'd you fix him," he finally said, after the storm of tears had passed.

Bella smiled at him sadly. "I made him and I still had a bit of the fabric left." She opened Frodo's clenched hands and ran a finger along one of the seams. "I'm sure he's glad to be back with his family."

Bilbo felt his own eyes fill with tears at the little stuffed dog Huan lying in Frodo's hands.

In the morning, Bilbo listened to music while he worked in the lab at Lorien. When he had the data he needed, he picked up a sandwich and some drinks at the cafeteria, then settled into his flet to work. The first thing he saw was a notification that he had an email.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_I didn't know Balin was out there. I'm sure he's doing a very good job of teaching. He was always good at explaining things when I was a kid and I'm sure he's only gotten better._

_How are you? How are your experiments going? Has anything spontaneously gained life yet?_

_I'm okay. I'll be home tomorrow afternoon. I can't wait. It's been interesting to be home for a while – well, back in Lysander – but I miss the Bay Area. And my bed. The bed my father's kept in my old bedroom is incredibly uncomfortable. I wonder how I ever slept on it as a kid._

_Can I see you? I'd love to spend time with you. I could make dinner? Frodo and his friends are absolutely invited as well. We could make a party of it and have Fili and Kili and maybe Tauriel would be willing to come._

_Bergil says that the case is still ongoing but she can't tell me much. I kept emailing her, but she says it's not like the cop shows, where the evidence just shows up magically and the test results come back from the lab in less than an hour._

_I don't know how Bolg knew we'd be there or that Frodo would be the one to get the package from the pier. I asked Bergil to find out, if she can. She's getting a search warrant for Bolg's house, but I don't know how long that'll be._

_How is Frodo, by the way? Has he had any negative aftereffects? I mean, other than the physical? How's he recovering?_

_Thorin  
_

Bilbo sighed. _I'll answer later._ He ignored how much he did want to see Thorin and turned back to his data. 

A few hours later, someone knocked on his door. He looked up, feeling a bit bleary-eyed, and said, "Come in."

Arwen stuck her head around the door. "I saw your car and thought you might be here." She stepped in and he saw she was carrying a tray with a selection of pastries. "I know you've got a coffee maker in here, so I brought something for us to snack on while we gossip." 

"Gossip?" He rubbed his eyes. 

"Sure," she said, as she fiddled with the coffee maker. "I know that Dr Jarnnave is here because he's doing you a favor, although I don't know why. And I heard about what happened to your nephew, I'm so sorry." She finished setting up the coffee and sat down at the table. "He's okay, right?"

Bilbo huffed a small laugh. "Okay enough. He's got a broken collarbone and had a slight concussion. He's deeply annoyed that having the broken collarbone means he can't play any of his video games because he needs two hands for most of them and his right arm is strapped to his body." Bilbo grinned at Arwen's laugh. "He's had a lot of bad stuff happen since the beginning of the year. His therapist is good, though, so I think it'll be okay."

Arwen poured their coffee into cups and chose a large fruit scone for herself. "He's seeing my dad, right? He's good about privacy, don't worry, and he's one of the best for trauma like this."

Bilbo stared at her. "I'm sorry, but. Your _father_? He's seeing a Dr Peredhil. Your name is Undomiel, right?"

Arwen's face lightened. "Oh, right. Yes, I am and he is. Or the other way around. Anyway, yes, that's my father. I have my mother's name, or a version of it."

Bilbo had a long sip of coffee. "I think I’m going to need more coffee. I'm – " He burst out laughing. "Oh wow, that means that Galadriel is his mother-in-law."

Arwen raised her eyebrows. "Yes?"

"I saw him two days ago and he said he was here to see his mother-in-law, but I had no idea."

On the way home, Bilbo pondered the way that so many of the people in his life were connected to each other as well. _Sometimes things are just damned weird._

After dinner – leftovers from the coq au vin – he sat in the living room with his parents. Bella was sketching something and Bungo was reading a thick book which appeared to be about mushrooms in Germany. Feeling comfortable and warm, Bilbo took out the red notebook Thorin had given him for Christmas and started making notes about the story he should have been working on for the past few weeks.

_To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Thorin,_

_I'd love to see you, yes. How about this coming Sunday? Frodo, Sam, Rosie, and I can come in the early afternoon, if that's okay. What should I bring?_

_Frodo's … okay, but he's started having nightmares. He's seeing a good therapist, though, so things should work out in the end._

_I'll see you in a couple of days._

_Bilbo  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will definitely be making this soon. [Coq au Vin](http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2006/12/magnificence-au-vin/)


	82. Eighty Two –  Everyone Has Lots to Say but Nothing Gets Done (Yet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo starts to get back in touch with old friends.

_To: Reid.Bergil@syracusepolice  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Officer Reid,_

_I'm sorry to bother you, but I have a few questions about the investigation into what happened to my nephew, Frodo Baggins. I know I am not involved at all, but I am concerned about a possible risk to Frodo's safety and mine._

_Azog has an online talk show, and fans of it have already proven that they know where I work. I'm concerned that he might convince them to find out more information about us and pose a greater threat than simply taking unflattering pictures of me in the halls of my university._

_What I'm hoping you can do for me is let me know if there's been any indication in the investigation of increased interest in me or Frodo. I'll be keeping an eye on his show and website, obviously, but given that – well, I assume you'll be interviewing Azog and his son and I'd appreciate a warning if there's any threat to us._

_I know that this is possibly quite unethical of me to ask, as this is an ongoing investigation – and honestly I don't know if I'm allowed to ask for this, but it would ease my mind. Frodo has had a catastrophically disastrous year already, and I'd give a lot to make him feel safer._

_Thank you very much and please let me know if there's anything we can do to help. I hope the investigation is going well and that you're having a good week._

_Doctor Bilbo Baggins  
_

Bilbo closed his laptop and stretched, then went to dinner. His parents were leaving the next morning, so Bella had outdone herself, making cherry roast duck with potatoes, asparagus, a large green salad, steamed mixed squash and three kinds of fruit tarts for dessert. 

"I might never eat again," Bilbo said, rubbing his stomach. "Oh, are you making coffee?" 

His father shot him a grin over his shoulder and nodded. "Yes, I thought it might help wash down the last of the tarts."

Bella chuckled. "Thank you for that – after putting away the leftovers, there wasn't going to be room in the fridge for the tarts."

"Oh, anything to help," Frodo said, "but I want tea."

That evening, Bilbo followed Frodo to his room. "Hey kid," he said, leaning on the door jamb. "You're back to school on Monday. Bard said he's emailed you the work you were supposed to be doing so you can look at it over the weekend."

Frodo rolled his eyes. "Yeah but that's boring. I want to do something fun before I have to go back."

Bilbo huffed. "Going to New York, seeing the city, then participating in potentially illegal geocaching and getting shot wasn't fun enough?"

Frodo grinned broadly. "No?"

Bilbo laughed. "So, Thorin's invited us – you and me and Sam and Rosie – to dinner on Sunday. I said we could be there at about 4. Is that okay?"

Frodo's face fell. "I guess." He pulled at his sling and looked at his computer screen.

Bilbo came into Frodo's room and sat on his bed. "Are you angry at him?"

"No!" Frodo swung back around. "I'm not mad. I'm just … he said he didn't have a reason to stay away and it's not fair. He could have talked to you – us."

Bilbo leaned his elbows on his knees. "When did he say that he didn't have a reason to stay away?"

"I asked him, on the way up to Lysander, if he still liked you and he said yes. So I asked him why he'd dumped you and he said that things were complicated." Frodo looked mulish. "And people only say that when they mean that they don't really _have_ a reason but don't want to admit it. Especially adults."

Bilbo sighed. "Yeah, I can't really argue with that." He looked at his hands, dangling between his legs. "He thought he was protecting us – me – from Smaug."

"Smaug? The Eurofop?"

Bilbo snorted. "Apparently he told Thorin that if he didn't give him the Arkenstone, he'd get my publishing contract nullified and make it so I couldn't find another publisher."

Frodo's eyes widened. "Can he do that?"

"No, Nori's not likely to give up on a series as popular as mine is turning out to be. And even if he did drop me, there are plenty of other publishers who'd be happy to work with me." Bilbo shrugged. "I don't know why Thorin thought for a second that it was a realistic threat, but…"

"Sometimes people are so stupid."

Bilbo laughed again. "Yes, kiddo. All of us. Sad, isn't it?" He stood up. "So Sunday's okay, then?"

"Sure," Frodo said, swinging his chair around to face his computer screen. "I'll Skype Rosie and Sam now."

Bilbo wandered down the hallway to the living room, where Bungo was reading something out loud to Bella. 

" – which, under the circumstances, seemed to me to border upon affectation – oh, hullo, Bilbo."

"Sherlock again?" Bilbo perched on the edge of his chair.

Bella nodded at him. "Once a year."

"Well, I won't spoil it for you, but I hear that Robert Downey Jr had fun with it."

The next morning the four of them went out for breakfast, then Frodo and Bilbo stood waving as Bilbo's parents turned right onto Broadway to get to the freeway. 

"Anything you want to do while we're out?" Bilbo asked as they got into his car.

Frodo shook his head. "I don't think so. We could go to the game store?"

Bilbo shook his head. "You've got to look over the schoolwork, kid. I was thinking more about whether or not we're low on milk."

"Oh, uh." Frodo looked sheepish. "We're out of milk."

Bilbo started laughing. "I'm so glad you remembered to tell me."

At home, after shopping for what looked like enough food for a family of eight, Bilbo sat down at the computer in his office. 

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_It feels so good to be home. Dis has been watering the plants, so that's okay, but the house feels funny and echoey. I keep feeling like I've misplaced something. I want to talk to you about what Bergil said but I don't think that it's a good idea to do that with the kids around. Can we meet, just the two of us?_

_I'm not cancelling Sunday! I have a whole meal planned, with lots of good food, but she said you emailed her and I wanted to talk to you about it._

_Can we meet on Saturday? I could come to your house? Or we could go to a park – I know this little park just on the bay where no one goes. It's cool. Well, and windy. But still, very cool. It's near the docks, so you can watch the cargo ships coming and going._

_Thorin  
_

Bilbo shook his head. "Saying you're going to take me to a park near the docks doesn't actually sound very attractive, you idiot."

_To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Thorin,_

_You're going to take me to a nice place that's near the Oakland Docks? Really? I mean, sure, but I sort of doubt your original premise. The docks don't look nice._

_What time?_

_Bilbo  
_

Bilbo gathered a stack of research papers he needed to go through and started making notes on a pad. "You're crazy if you think that'll ever work," he muttered at the title of one paper. "There's no way that compound makes sense. That doesn't dimerize."

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: Reid.B@syracusepolice_

_Dear Dr Baggins,_

_Thank you for your email. My week has been productive, actually. I hope you haven't had any trouble getting back to work and that your nephew is feeling better._

_I had thought about the possible risk to you and Frodo. I will, of course, keep you updated about anything which might impact your life, or that of your nephew. I do need to ask him a few questions, if that's okay with you – on the phone would be best for me, but if you would prefer, I can ask them in email._

_Currently, while I have interviewed both Bolg Gogol and his father Azog Gogol, they have not been forthcoming with their whereabouts during the time in question. I have applied for a search warrant and will inform you of anything I find which indicates you might be in danger._

_If you want, I can contact your local police department and ask that they increase patrols in your neighborhood._

_Bergil Reid  
_

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. _More cops. Huh. I hadn't thought of that._

_To: Reid.B@syracusepolice  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Officer Reid,_

_Thank you for your consideration. I don't know that I think we need more police patrols in my neighborhood, but thank you for the offer. And thank you for offering to keep me informed about any risks you hear about._

_As for talking to Frodo, either a phone call or email would work for either of us. He also does Skype, but I don't know if that would be good enough for you._

_Dr Baggins  
_

Bilbo went back to reading the research papers, then stopped and slowly sat up straight. After a moment, he sighed deeply and rubbed his face.

_To: d.jarnfotor  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Dain,_

_I just realized that I know a lawyer. I mean… Frodo was shot, while he was in New York visiting Thorin's family._

_He's fine, just a broken collarbone and a slight concussion, and we're home now, but the police in Syracuse want to talk to him about what happened – totally reasonable, but I just thought that maybe it would be good if you could listen in?_

_I'll pay you for your time, of course, and I don't think that there'll be any need for you to do anything lawyerish, but with the current trend in police behavior, and also with the fact that this has to do with Azog Gogol and his family, I think I'd feel better if we had legal advice._

_How are you? How's the case against Rufus and Asphodel going?_

_Bilbo  
_

Bilbo didn't have time to try to start reading again before his phone chimed with a text notification.

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_I know it sounds seedy, but they put the park in when they took out some old naval stuff, I think, and it's pretty now. The thing is, it's also very quiet, because not a lot of people know about it._

_Any time is good for me tomorrow, so pick a time?  
_

_From: Bilbo  
To: Thorin_

_I'll get free of work stuff by about noon, so how about we meet for lunch instead? The Buttercup Grille is right down there in the Square, and it's not likely anyone we know will be there. I'll show up about noon thirty.  
_

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: d.jarnfotor_

_WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHOT?_

_Who the hell would shoot a kid? I know Lysander, Thorin's my cousin, I visited several times in the summer when we were all kids. Lysander's not a shooting-kids sort of place._

_I'd be happy to represent Frodo in this situation. We can work out any payment necessary later, if this turns into more than just a couple of police interviews._

_Let's schedule a time early next week for you and Frodo to come to my office and we can talk._

_Dain  
_

Bilbo laughed and left the office to start making lunch. 

On Saturday, Bilbo sat in a large booth in the restaurant and watched the different types of people pass on the street. Some were shabby, their clothes – and themselves – clearly having seen better days. Others were dressed for summer on the beach and he shook his head. It wasn't particularly warm, but many people seemed to think that if they _dressed_ for hot weather, it would magically appear.

Someone glanced at him through the window and hunched his shoulders, then kept walking. As Bilbo watched, the man pulled his hood up over his ears and shoved his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt. Then Bilbo saw Thorin crossing the street; he was wearing tight jeans and a dark t-shirt with a grey leather jacket over it. His hair was caught up in a messy bun at the back of his head, but the two braids he liked to wear on either side of his head hung over his shoulders.

"Mmm, he's cute," someone from the next booth over said. "He looks kind of like that singer, the one with the big belt buckle, don't he?"

Bilbo looked up and saw a dark skinned woman with snow white hair looking at Thorin through the window. Her companion, a younger woman who looked very similar to her, caught Bilbo's eye and smiled. "He does a little, but no one like that would come here, Nana."

"Sorry I'm late," Thorin said, dropping into the booth across from Bilbo. "80 south is a total mess." He picked up his menu and opened it. "Have you ordered?" 

Bilbo noticed, amused, that Thorin had taken his hair out of the bun. "I got coffee for both of us," he said, "but I didn't want to order without you."

After the waitress had brought their coffees and taken their orders, Bilbo sat back. "I emailed Dain. I want him to sit in when Bergil talks to Frodo. I don't think there's any reason to need a lawyer, but it seems wise to have one anyway."


	83. Eighty Three – Police Work Isn't Quite What Bilbo Expected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin has some bad news for Bilbo, but they come to a tentative agreement about more personal things.

The meal was quiet. Thorin had nodded at Bilbo's statement, then started talking about things he'd had to get done after getting home. Bilbo was impressed at how resolutely Thorin was refusing to talk about anything important, but he just shrugged and got on with eating lunch.

When they'd finished and had gone outside – Thorin had insisted on paying for the meal – Thorin gave Bilbo the address of the park they were going to. 

"And I'll lead you there, just in case," Thorin said. 

Bilbo huffed. "I've got a perfectly good gps in my phone, thanks. I'll meet you there." At Thorin's expression, Bilbo crossed his arms. "I don't need protecting, Thorin. I'm not a child or incompetent."

"I don't think you're – " Thorin pressed his lips together. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean it that way." He stood, his expression uncomfortable and tense, then he stuck his hands in his pockets. "Truthfully, most people in my family would laugh at the thought of me leading anyone. I'm known for getting lost."

Bilbo was suddenly reminded of the first time Thorin came to Hobbiton. "Right. That makes sense." He smiled at the mulish look that flitted across Thorin's face. "So, I'll use my phone and meet you there? Would you like me to lead?"

Thorin rolled his eyes. "Thanks, but I'll be fine. See you there?" He looked very uncertain, then lifted his arms slightly toward Bilbo.

Bilbo had started moving toward his car, but he looked over his shoulder at the movement. "Did you want something else before we go? I think there's a coffee shop nearby."

Thorin's arms were tightly crossed over his chest. "No." 

Bilbo shrugged, then got in his car and looked at the map. "Okay," he muttered, sliding the picture around. "That makes sense, turn left there and there's a long bit … huh. What do you know, a park. Weird."

He started his car and backed out of the parking spot, then, as he pulled forward, realized that Thorin was still standing and watching him. _Well no wonder he gets lost if he stands around like that._

The drive was interesting – this was a part of Oakland that Bilbo hadn't seen. Driving along the industrial street and then through the Port was fascinating and he caught himself wondering what it might be like to work in places like this. The park itself was empty. There were a couple of cars parked in the lot, but he couldn't see anyone who might be connected to them.

Thorin's truck pulled in behind him only a minute later, so he got out and smiled. "See," he said. "I made it all on my very own."

Thorin shut his door and shook his head. "I _am_ sorry. It's a lifelong habit and one that Dis has informed me many times is unnecessary."

"Don't worry about it. My mother tells me to wear a jacket every time she sees me."

They walked down the path in silence. Bilbo tugged his jacket closed and zipped it. "It's colder here than I expected. I don't know why I didn't think about it."

Thorin looked down at him. "I've got a scarf in my car."

"Nah, thanks," Bilbo said. "Oh, look, there's a little building. I wonder how far we can see from it." He turned up the path toward the open stone building. Halfway there, he looked over his shoulder at Thorin, who'd been walking more slowly. "You're going to have to tell me, you know, and this isn't making it easier."

Thorin nodded, then said, his voice low. "Let's go to the top, okay?"

Up on the second floor of the building, they leaned over the bannister and looked at the bridges lining up across the bay. 

"Bergil is having trouble getting a judge to sign a search warrant. She's interviewed both Bolg and Azog, but they're not saying anything. They've got good lawyers, of course." Thorin looked at the tall buildings of San Francisco. "Without any witnesses, they're saying there isn't much to go on."

Bilbo looked up at him. "But you're a witness, and so were the others."

"I'm the only one who saw Bolg, and –" Thorin gripped the top of the bannister and twisted. "Well, our family history makes it complicated."

"So you're saying that nothing's going to happen? That my nephew can just get shot and we even know who did it, but they're not going to do anything?"

Thorin looked slightly green. "I did say – " 

"That's fucking insane." Bilbo glared at Thorin. "Because you and Azog have a history is _more_ reason for the police to be investigating, not less."

"It means they don't trust my identification of Bolg. They've brought up the fact that Azog and I, ah, have had public arguments and Bolg's lawyers made it seem as if I was lying about who I saw. And it's not as if I can say, definitively, that it was Bolg. He was far enough away for it to be questionable." Thorin picked at the old paint on the metal in front of them.

"Does Bolg have an alibi? Where does he say he was at the time of the – " Bilbo felt his throat close for a second, then he pushed on. "At the time of the shooting."

"He says he was at home, with his family." Thorin looked at Bilbo and Bilbo saw the despair in his eyes. "I don't know what Bergil can do."

"What would it take to get them to be arrested? Does she need a confession? Why won't any of the judges give her a search warrant?"

"They're probably golfing buddies with Azog or his father." Thorin paused, then said in very low tones, "Or mine."

Bilbo felt his heart sink. "Your father's involved in this?"

"I don't think so. I mean, I hope not, but he and Azog's father were business partners for a few years, a long time ago. It could be old loyalties raising their heads."

Bilbo looked away from the abject misery on Thorin's face. The bay was a funny grey-green, with low waves. As they stood there, a cargo ship moved past: a lumbering giant with small, aggressive tugboats surrounding it. They herded the larger boat into the mouth of the estuary and around the corner, away from Bilbo's gaze. He saw a man in a dark hoodie walking slowly down the path that led to the end of the small spit of land. 

"Did she say anything about Frodo's safety out here?" He finally asked.

Thorin was silent and Bilbo looked up at him. "She said she didn't think either of you is in any immediate danger."

"Oh, that's very reassuring." Bilbo crossed his arms. "So now what?"

"I don't know. I hope – " Thorin shifted on his feet. "I hope we can try again."

Bilbo turned to him. "Try again?" He heard his mother's voice in his memory, saying that Thorin hadn't been good for him in the long run, but the expression he remembered on his father's face made him pause. 

Thorin had stiffened, his face suddenly a mask. His eyes were shadowed and he stood, shoulders back and arms at his sides. "I'm sorry, I – "

Bilbo sighed. "Oh Thorin, stop. It's – I just need a bit of time. I’m not sure what exactly you want from this – from us. There are a lot of things we need to work on before things will be okay." He watched expressions chase each other across Thorin's face. "I still love you. That hasn't changed, but I think we took things a bit fast, last time. Don't you?"

Thorin shrugged; it looked almost like it hurt him to move at all. "I – tell me what I need to do differently."

Bilbo felt a wave of fatigue rush through him. "Thorin, that's not quite how this works. I'm not going to tell you who you should be. I want you to be yourself."

Thorin's expression was intent. "I – " Suddenly his face crumpled and he looked as if he were about to cry. He covered his eyes with a hand, pulled in a deep breath, then said, his hand still over his eyes, "That hasn't ever worked out well for me."

_Oh Thorin._ Bilbo reached out and put a hand on Thorin's chest, not sure what to say. Thorin's hand came up to cover Bilbo's; he dropped the hand from his eyes and blinked fiercely. 

"Okay," Bilbo said softly, "let's try again. Hi," he smiled. "My name's Bilbo. I teach Organic Chemistry and write books. What about you?"

Thorin reached for him and gently tugged on Bilbo's shoulder, drawing him closer. "I'm Thorin Durin and I love you."

Bilbo stepped forward into the warmth of Thorin's embrace and closed his eyes. _If only things were this easy._

The next morning was chaos. Sam and Rosie came over early and the three kids seemed to be doing something in Frodo's bedroom that required regular shouts and, once, dropping what sounded like a bowling ball. Bilbo resolutely ignored the noise and worked on organizing the latest bits of research he and Ori had done. 

_To: KnittedBeaker  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Ori,_

_I just finished going through the last set of data. You know you're nearly done, right? I think it's time you started looking at writing it all up and turning it into your Thesis. I can't wait to see what you make of it all._

_Let's schedule a time to talk about it?_

_Bilbo  
_

After lunch, he reminded the kids that they were going to leave for Thorin's house in a couple of hours, then he went back to the kitchen and started a batch of cookies. 

Bilbo was surprised at how comfortable he felt pulling into the courtyard of Thorin's house. He closed his car door and smiled as Fili appeared across the yard. 

"Hey there," Fili said. "I see you're still traveling with your very own circus."

Rosie grinned at him and gave him a big hug. "Nice to see you too," she said. 

Bilbo picked up the bag with the cookies and showed it to Fili. "Here, I brought something. How've you been?"

They followed the teenagers, who'd already bounced through the doors. Fili looked serious. "I've been okay, but I just want to say again how sorry I am."

Bilbo looked at him sharply. "Did you tell Bolg you were going to be there? Did you have anything to do with any of that?"

Fili stopped moving; he'd gone white. "Of course not!"

Bilbo nodded. "Then it's okay. I mean, it could have turned out much worse than it did, obviously, but it isn't as if you could have foreseen a mad stalker." He started walking again.

Fili caught up with him in a couple of strides. "True, but still."

"Drop it," Bilbo said. "It turned out okay. Try not to let it happen again." He saw Fili looking at him and shrugged. "Look, there's enough stress right now. There's nothing wrong with having the kids out there with you guys. For all you knew, there wouldn't even be a hiding place out there, so you were really just having a bit of fun doing Urban Exploring." 

Fili still looked unhappy, but he nodded. "So, what did you make? I'm sure it'll be delicious."

Kili and Tauriel were already in the living room, now chattering animatedly to Sam and Frodo, while Rosie was showing something to Dis at the window. Fili turned to talk to them, and Bilbo continued into the kitchen.

Thorin was there, an old apron tied around his waist. He'd pulled his hair back into a long ponytail and wrapped his two long side-braids around the tie, so it looked like they were holding his hair up. He looked up as Bilbo came into the room. 

"Hi," he said softly. "I've made my grandmother's moussaka. There'll be macaroni cheese as well, and salad. And I put snacks out in the living room. Veggies and dip and stuff."

Bilbo smiled and, putting his bag down on the table, stepped close and pulled him into a hug. "Hi yourself," he said. "That all sounds delicious. I made chocolate mint cookies."

Thorin's arms came up slowly, but then he hugged Bilbo tightly, pressing his face into Bilbo's hair. "I missed you," he said. 

"It was less than a day," Bilbo said into Thorin's chest. _I missed you as well. I hope this doesn't end in disaster._

"Mmm, chocolate mint," Thorin said, stepping back, but leaving his hands on Bilbo's shoulders. "That sounds tasty."

Bilbo smiled and rubbed his hands on Thorin's. "I like them, but I still haven't managed to recreate Thin Mints."

"Well," Thorin said, turning to stir the pot on the stove. "Let me know when you start experimenting with Samoas and I'll present myself as guinea pig."

"Coconut caramel, huh?" Bilbo remembered something from when they'd started emailing. "What _is_ your favorite color, anyway?"

Thorin looked confused. "Um. Blue, why? And what's yours?"

"Green. The pale color in new leaves, just after they change from gold. And I was just thinking that we never did the really basic things like favorite color and stuff." Bilbo smiled as Thorin chuckled.

"Good point. So, now we know colors. What about foods, do you have a favorite food?" He dipped a spoon into the cheese sauce and licked it. 

Bilbo tried to ignore how his body reacted to the flash of Thorin's tongue. "Ah, no, not especially. There are some foods I really _don't_ like, but none that I can say are a true favorite." He leaned forward when Thorin offered him another small spoonful of the sauce. "Needs more mustard, I'd say."

Thorin nodded and tapped more mustard powder in from a yellow metal tin. "Okay, so what book would you bring with you if you were trapped on a desert island."

"One about boat building, of course."

Thorin started laughing and Bilbo felt as if he'd been dipped in warm honey. "Good answer." His eyes sparkled.

"What animal did you want to turn into when you were a little kid?" Bilbo asked.

Thorin's head came up fast. "How'd you know?"

"Didn't everyone?" Bilbo sat down at the table and smiled. "I wanted to be a horse. Or a panther. I couldn't ever decide."

"I wanted to be a raven," Thorin said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a real place - and quite interesting, in a quiet sort of way. [Middle Harbor Shoreline Park](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Middle_Harbor_Shoreline_Park)


	84. Eighty Four - Conversations Over Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinnertime is a good time to talk - and even to find out something unexpected.

Thorin checked something in the oven, then sat down at the table with Bilbo. "How was the first week of school?"

Bilbo smiled down at his hands, folded on the tabletop. "Not bad, but if I have to hear one more person complain about the fact that there's a new administration building instead of a new science building, I might scream."

Thorin chuckled. "So, why isn't there a new science building? I mean, it seems like they'd want to improve the labs, right? Surely you guys need a new, um, microscope or something."

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "Yes, we could use an upgrade, and no, I don't think that we needed a _second_ new administration building in ten years, but it's been old news for two years, so why do people insist on bringing it up at every single planning meeting?"

"Their needle is stuck?"

"You're just lucky I'm old enough to remember real records," Bilbo said, grinning.

Thorin looked at him, and Bilbo suddenly noticed how blue his eyes were. "Well," Thorin said, his voice very deep, "I won't disagree. I _am_ lucky."

Bilbo's breath caught. "I – "

"Is there anything to drink?" Kili leaned through the door, then came into the kitchen. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. Dinner smells great."

Thorin stood and stirred the cheese sauce. "Thanks. You can look in the fridge for something to drink. I've got sodas in there and I think there's cider and beer."

Kili nodded. "Thanks." He stuck his head in the fridge and came out with a large bottle in his hand. The label had a picture of a black man with a halo made from piano keys leaning back and holding a glass of something dark – Bilbo assumed it was whatever was in the bottle. "Beer?" Kili asked, waggling the bottle in Bilbo's direction.

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "Sure. Will it go with dinner?"

Thorin looked over from where he was mixing the cheese sauce into cooked pasta shells in a glass baking dish. "What? Oh, Thelonious? Yeah, he goes with everything." He sprinkled a thick coat of large crumbs on top of the macaroni and cheese and slid the pan into the oven. "I'll have a glass as well, Kili."

Kili, who'd been carefully working the cork out of the bottle, nodded. With a small pop, the cork came out and Kili poured four glasses of the beer. He picked up two and started for the living room, then turned back. "Half an hour, then? The kids've been complaining about never having eaten."

"What about the giant plate of vegetables and hummus?" Thorin leaned to the side to try to look past Kili into the living room.

"Long gone," Kili said. "I didn't believe them, though, when they said that Bilbo didn't feed them lunch."

Bilbo snorted. "Not hardly. Between the three of them, they cleaned out all the leftovers I had."

"Ah, that'll be it, then," Kili said, looking wise. "Leftovers have fewer calories."

After he'd gone, Bilbo sipped his beer. "Oh," he said. "This is good."

Thorin, who'd already had a big swallow of his own glassful, smiled at him. "Yes, it's one of my favorites. I got several bottles for tonight – it goes well with the moussaka."

Bilbo leaned his chin in his hand. "You said it's your grandmother's recipe. She was from Turkey, right?"

"Persia," Thorin said, then sighed. "Turkey, yes. I'm not sure exactly where specifically, but she and my grandfather met on a dig." He tipped the glass toward himself and looked into the dark liquid.

"Was she nice?" 

Thorin smiled into his glass, his face softening. "She was perfect. She had the silliest sense of humor and was an excellent cook. She hated housecleaning, but loved to garden." He looked up at Bilbo. "There was this time, I put a – "

"… goat, into her greenhouse, right?" Bilbo remembered something Balin had told him.

"How did you know?" Thorin looked thunderstruck.

"Balin told me, but he didn't tell me the whole story." Bilbo grinned at Thorin's expression. "So, what did she do?"

Thorin stared at him for a moment, then shook himself all over and leaned back in his chair. "I knew this goat – it was one of the neighbors' and we all loved her. She was bossy and funny and used to yell at us until we fed her our corn cobs. Anyway, I had the bright idea of sneaking her into Mamani's greenhouse." He laughed at the look on Bilbo's face. "I know. I don't know what I was thinking – probably that the goat would just hide and jump out and startle Mamani." 

"What did the goat eat?" Bilbo asked, amused at the mental image of a young Thorin trying to get the goat to go anywhere.

"Her prize tomatoes."

Bilbo gasped. "Oh my, really? Dear god, if you'd done that to my father's tomatoes, you might end up as fertilizer for next year's crop!"

Thorin looked sheepish. "Yeah, that sounds about right. She ended up thinking it was funny, but not until a bit later."

The timer on the stove dinged and Thorin stood up. "I miss her. She'd have gotten along well with your mother."

Bilbo remembered what his mother thought about his relationship with Thorin and sighed. "I'm sure they'd have been thick as thieves." He watched as Thorin took two large pans from the oven. One was the macaroni and cheese; the crust was now dark brown and bubbling. The other, larger, pan was filled with something Bilbo didn't recognize. "I thought you were making moussaka?" 

Thorin turned from where he'd been shifting things around in the fridge. He pulled out a large bowl of salad and set it down on the table in front of Bilbo. "I did. It's not the Greek type, though, so it's got eggplant in. I forgot to ask if you like eggplant."

Bilbo smiled. "I can't wait to try it. I'm sure it's delicious." He picked up the salad. "Should I take this into the other room?"

Thorin nodded. "And send in Fili to help carry the rest?"

When everyone was served, Frodo leaned forward and said, "Thanks, Thorin. It's nice to not have to have someone else cut up my food before I can eat it."

Thorin looked startled, then nodded. "You're welcome. It's my grandmother's recipe, I hope you like it."

Kili had already started eating. He swallowed his first bite and said, "It's about time you went back to making her food, Uncle. It's been ages."

Next to him, Tauriel poked her serving of moussaka, then tried a bite. She looked thoughtful as she chewed. "You said this was moussaka," she said, "but there's something – it's not like the others I've had."

Fili glanced up. "It's Persian." 

Dis poured the last of another bottle of the beer into her glass and smiled at Tauriel. "If you like it, we'll get Thorin to make tut. Do you like almonds?" 

After that, conversation drifted to other foods they liked and what they'd tried. Tauriel had grown up cooking many Japanese foods, which seemed to be a surprise to Kili. They had a cheerful argument about whether or not sushi with cream cheese in it was really sushi.

Sam and Rosie were on Tauriel's side of the discussion, and Bilbo smiled at Thorin as they all tried different ways of making the other side admit defeat.

Dis leaned over and touched Bilbo's arm. "How's Frodo doing?" She glanced at Frodo, who'd been offering help to both sides of the sushi discussion. "He seems to be healing well."

Bilbo shook his head. "We have a doctor's appointment in a couple of days, but I think his collar bone is doing well. He's been having nightmares, though."

She looked sad. "I'm not surprised. I'm glad he – " She broke off and her face contracted. "I'm just glad things weren't worse." She looked at Frodo, who was now laughing at something Kili had said. 

On Bilbo's other side, Thorin picked at the last of his salad. "I’m sorry," he said.

Bilbo sighed. "I said this to Fili earlier, but it's _okay_. I mean, it's not – it was awful and frightening and terrible, but unless you told Azog and Bolg you were going to be there, then it's _not your fault_."

Thorin looked near tears for a second and Bilbo looked away, catching a glimpse of anguish on Dis' face as she watched her brother. Her gaze slid to Bilbo and her expression shifted to determination. "Well, we won't let anything like that happen again, that's certain."

Thorin stood up. "I'll start clearing up now." He picked up the dishes with the remainder of the food and walked briskly to the kitchen. 

Dis watched him go. "I know he's not always right, but please give him a second chance." Her voice was just above a whisper. "He's been so unhappy since he left you."

Bilbo blinked at her. "I – we're working on it, but really, that's something we're going to have to do together." He kept his eyes on hers. "Without anyone else interfering."

She twitched back, then her eyes narrowed. After a long moment, she nodded sharply. "That's better," she said. 

Dis then turned to the rest of the table and interrupted their conversation. "So, what are we doing for Thorin's birthday? I mean, since he's in the kitchen, it's safe to bring it up."

"When is it," Frodo asked, his eyes on Bilbo. 

"Tax day," Fili said, grinning. 

Bilbo glanced at the kitchen door. "But that's only three days away."

Kili nodded. "He hates having it celebrated, so we usually have a party." 

"Really?" Bilbo looked at Dis, who shrugged. "That seems a bit …"

"He doesn't mind, really," she said.

Bilbo stood and started gathering plates. "Well, I'll have to figure out something to give him."

In the kitchen, Bilbo found Thorin standing in the small dining nook, looking out of the window into the dark. He stood next to Thorin and wrapped an arm around Thorin's waist. Thorin turned and wound his own arms around Bilbo, burying his face in Bilbo's hair.

"You shouldn't forgive me that easily," he said, his voice muffled by Bilbo's head.

"So, I hear your birthday's coming up," Bilbo responded, smiling as Thorin stiffened.

"Dis." Thorin said, lifting his face, but not releasing Bilbo. "She told you, didn't she?"

Bilbo leaned back so he could look at Thorin. "Was it supposed to be a secret?"

"Well, no, but I don't want you to feel obligated. It's not a big deal." 

Bilbo chuckled and leaned against Thorin's chest, looking at their reflection in the window. "Oh, I’m not at all obligated. I've even thought of something I can give you on short notice."

Thorin groaned. "Please, it's really not – " 

"How about if I just kidnap you? Then it'll be just you and me and you'll be safe."

Thorin brightened. "That would be nice."

The next day, Bilbo emailed Fili and told him that Thorin was going to be out of town for his birthday, so if they wanted to give him any gifts, they should do it before the actual day. Then he made reservations for Wednesday and Thursday nights at a bed and breakfast run by an old friend of his mother's. He checked with Hamfast and Bell to make sure that Frodo could stay with them for those two nights, then he sat back, pleased with his plans. 

_To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Thorin,_

_So, I'll be picking you up around four on Wednesday afternoon. I've made plans for us for your birthday and for Thursday. You'll be home safe on Friday. Pack for wind, and maybe some hiking._

_Bilbo  
_

On Wednesday, Bilbo left campus and drove straight to Thorin's house. To his dismay, he found Fili and Kili waiting for him in the courtyard. 

"I'm in a hurry, so you'll have to do any pranks later," he said, walking past them and into the house. They followed him and he heard them exchange a hushed spate of words.

"Actually," Fili said, catching him by the shoulder. "We wanted to thank you. Whatever you're doing with him is making him happier than we've seen in months and, well – "

"And we're just happy to see him happy," Kili interrupted. "We got you guys this." He handed Bilbo a box with _Nabolom Bakery_ printed on the top. "It's some of his favorite pastries from a bakery in Berkeley. I'm sure you'll have arranged for food, but in case there's a long drive … you'll have snacks."

Bilbo laughed, taking the box. "Thank you very much. Given the time of day, the drive might be a bit tricky, so these will be a pleasant addition. Now, go away so I can kidnap your uncle in peace."

They grinned at him and loped away; Bilbo saw Kili peer into the back of his car, then Fili smacking him on the back of the head. Bilbo continued into the house.

"Thorin," he called, "are you upstairs or down?"

"Bilbo?" Thorin sounded far away, so Bilbo moved toward the stairs. "I'll be right down. I lost track of time."

Thorin met Bilbo at the top of the stairs. He had a duffle bag over one shoulder and the case with the harp Bilbo had given him for Christmas at his feet. "Will this be too much?" He sounded anxious, but he looked excited.

Bilbo smiled. "No, that's fine. The harp will be nice, where we're going is very quiet. Oh," he lifted the box of pastries. "And your nephews seem to be afraid I'll starve you."

Thorin shook his head, smiling. "Actually, that's a birthday tradition from Kili. When he was little, he didn't have money of his own, of course, and he had very odd ideas about what was a good present." He grabbed the handle of the harp case and nodded toward the stairs. Bilbo immediately turned and went back down. "Anyway," Thorin continued, following him through the house, " he seemed worried that I wouldn't get any cake, so he went to a bakery near where they lived at the time and asked Nagli if he could get me a cake."

They moved the bags that Bilbo had brought in the back of the car and made room for Thorin's luggage. In the seats, Thorin kept the bakery box on his lap, opening it up to peek inside. 

"Did he get you cake?" Bilbo asked, driving carefully down the narrow streets.

"No. For some reason, he got me several of these bread sticks that we like. I mean, they're great – I love them – but they couldn't be further from cake if they tried. Now he gets me some every year." He pulled a long, thick loaf from the box and broke it in half, handing half to Bilbo, who took a bite. 

It was dense and chewy, with dried fruit – Bilbo thought they might be currants – and seeds inside the loaf. He chewed and swallowed, and glanced at Thorin, who was chewing his own bite. 

"Not cake, no," Bilbo said, "but certainly tasty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipes, of course.
> 
> [Persian Moussaka](https://graham.main.nc.us/~bhammel/tscd/gr/moussaka.html)
> 
> [Tut](http://www.mypersiankitchen.com/persian-tut-white-mulberry-sweet/)
> 
> [Brother Thelonious](http://www.northcoastbrewing.com/beers/year-round-beers/brother-thelonious-belgian-style-abbey-ale/), a great beer (and musician!)
> 
> And this is where they're going. Don't tell Thorin. They'll be staying in the Woods Room. [Osprey Peak](http://www.ospreypeak.com/)


	85. Eighty Five – Getting to Know Each Other Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo spend some quality time in the Bed and Breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in Scotland for 10 days, visiting one of my best friends, and my partner's family, and celebrating my graduation! Scotland is great, as usual, although wetter and greyer in the summer than last time we were here. 
> 
> I wrote this chapter while in the air, flying over the Atlantic, some time in the middle of the night on Wednesday night.
> 
> (This chapter is NSFW, omg, I nearly forgot to say.)

The drive up to the bed and breakfast was quiet. Bilbo asked Thorin if his family had given him anything for his birthday and, when Thorin just shrugged, Bilbo let the silence stay. 

_At least it's not an uncomfortable silence._ Bilbo turned right at the pile of old wine barrels. He glanced over and saw Thorin looking around curiously.

"You've kidnapped me to Point Reyes?" He turned and smiled at Bilbo, who nodded.

"Yup. One of my mother's friends has a bed and breakfast up here and it's exactly what we need." He carefully navigated the narrow road, then pulled up in front of a low wooden building with a broad welcoming deck.

Thorin's brows drew together. "What we need?" He looked suddenly anxious.

"Nothing bad, but if we're going to work on being together, on talking things through, then I thought we could start with something, well – " Bilbo lifted a shoulder. "Something romantic."

Thorin's anxious expression faded into a slow smile filled with pleasure and a heat that made Bilbo shift in his seat. "Well," Thorin said," it's a good thing I brought the harp. Nothing's more romantic than being serenaded."

Bilbo snorted, then got out of the car. "Come on, Harp Boy, let's check in."

In the room, Thorin set his things down and turned in a slow circle, looking at everything. Before Bilbo knew what he was doing, Thorin strode to him and pulled him into a hug.

 _I always forget how warm he is and how strong his arms are._ Bilbo snuggled into Thorin's chest and let the pleasure of it relax his shoulders. 

Thorin shifted slightly, then drew his right hand along Bilbo's jawline, tipping his head back. "I want to kiss you," he said, his voice nearly too low for Bilbo to hear.

Bilbo licked his lips and Thorin's eyes locked on his mouth. "I – I would like that," Bilbo said.

Thorin's fingers slid into the hair at the base of Bilbo's skull, his thumb coming to a rest in the hollow behind Bilbo's ear. Thorin tugged gently and Bilbo rocked forward; Thorin's left arm tightened around Bilbo's chest. Thorin's mouth hovered a breath above Bilbo's and Bilbo just had time for a wish that Thorin would get on with it when Thorin's mouth was there, warm and gentle.

He spent a moment with his lips just resting on Bilbo's, then he pressed further, his tongue slipping out and gently touching Bilbo's lips. 

Bilbo surprised himself by gasping – the slow kiss, the gentle beginning made him feel slightly dizzy. He couldn't think of anything except Thorin's lips, the way he held Bilbo trapped against his body, the way their hips pressed tightly together. Thorin was already aroused; Bilbo could feel the length of his erection against his hip. 

Thorin moaned and suddenly the kiss was less delicate – he bent Bilbo back slightly, kissing him deeply and almost frantically, his left hand sliding up Bilbo's back until it was also cradling Bilbo's face. Thorin was making soft, needy sounds between kisses. 

His hands came around to between them and started working on the buttons of Bilbo's shirt; as soon as Bilbo's chest was exposed, Thorin kissed and nipped his way down Bilbo's neck, then latched his mouth to Bilbo's nipple and sucked.

Bilbo felt as if electric bolts had shot from where Thorin's mouth was working to every single other part of his body. He swayed; only Thorin's hands, slipping quickly around to the small of his back, kept him upright. Bilbo managed to wrap his own arms around Thorin's shoulders, but couldn't think of what he should be doing next. He had some idea that this wasn't what he'd expected to be doing, but he had no idea what else existed. He could hear panting and moans but didn't know where they were coming from.

Thorin shifted so Bilbo's weight was resting on one of Thorin's shoulders, then he pushed Bilbo's shirt down his arms and off, tugging at it when it wouldn't come easily from the waistband of Bilbo's pants. Once that obstacle was discarded, Thorin kept working back and forth between Bilbo's nipples while his hands opened Bilbo's belt – and then pants – which he then yanked down to Bilbo's knees.

Bilbo's cock sprang free, and Bilbo felt it rub against the soft fabric of the shirt Thorin was wearing. For a second, he wondered if Thorin was going to take off his own clothes, then Thorin made a sound deep in his throat and sucked all of Bilbo's cock into his mouth and Bilbo lost all connection with the world outside of the heat and sensation of Thorin. 

The fingers of one of Thorin's hands were squeezing Bilbo's ass and his other hand was wrapped tightly around the base of Bilbo's prick. His mouth was tight and so hot and his tongue was like velvet with small electric sparks and Bilbo heard begging and high-pitched whines and there was nothing in the world except the feel of Thorin's fingers and the way he pulled up and nearly off so slowly and the exquisite pleasure-pain of the loss of pressure and heat … And then Thorin let go of Bilbo's cock and gripped his thigh instead and Bilbo felt the rush of pleasure which had been building in his hips and head come roaring through him and into Thorin.

Thorin's mouth stayed on Bilbo until he'd softened, then Thorin pressed his face into the hollow of Bilbo's hip, his lips moving in silent words. Bilbo slowly became aware that he was bent nearly double over Thorin, his own clothes pulled to disarray; Thorin knelt at his feet, his arms wrapped tightly around Bilbo's waist and his face pressed tightly to Bilbo's stomach. 

"Thorin," Bilbo tried to say, but his throat was dry. He coughed and tried again. "Thorin, I –" 

Thorin shifted so that he was looking up into Bilbo's face. "I'm sorry." His eyes were dark, but his mouth and cheeks were bright pink.

Bilbo shivered and stumbled over his pants tangled around his knees. Thorin kept his hands on Bilbo's hips, then when Bilbo was steady, he carefully started trying to pull Bilbo's underwear and pants back up. "Whatever are you sorry for?"

Thorin looked away. "I should have asked. I don't know that you intended to, ah – I'm not sure what you planned for this weekend. I didn't intend for that to happen."

Bilbo placed his hands on Thorin's, stopping his increasingly ineffective tugging. "Oh, Thorin – that was amazing, truly. No need to apologize." He rearranged his pants, then sat on the floor in front of Thorin. "I expected we'd spend time together in bed. I just didn't think it would be this immediate. Or," he looked at Thorin's still chagrined expression. "Or that it would be so one-sided."

When Bilbo reached for him, Thorin shook his head. "I wanted that – I wanted to show you how you make me feel. I was going to just kiss you, but…" His cheeks, which had faded back to their normal shade, pinked again. 

"Well," Bilbo said, picking up his shirt and standing up. "Let's go have an early dinner, then come back here and see if we can't try this again."

They had dinner at a small restaurant in Olema; fresh local oysters, seafood pasta, and several glasses of wine. Bilbo found himself distracted by the way Thorin's throat moved as he swallowed, and the curve of his fingers around the stem of the wine glass. Thorin didn't seem any more focused on his meal; he lost track of what they were talking about when Bilbo got some of the pasta sauce on his hand and had to lick it off.

By the time they made it back to their room, Bilbo felt like a teenager, overwhelmed with both how he felt about Thorin and the things he wanted to _do to_ Thorin. As soon as the door was closed behind them, he pressed Thorin against it and pulled Thorin's shirt up, catching one of Thorin's nipples in his teeth. 

Thorin gasped and his hips jerked forward; Bilbo pressed a hand to his crotch and felt his cock, hard and eager. "Have you had this since we first got here?"

Thorin looked down at him, his eyes slightly wild. "I've had it since I woke up this morning."

"That long?" Bilbo said, startled. He smiled, feeling very wicked. "That's been more than four hours, should I take you to a doctor?" Thorin ducked his head, but Bilbo pressed a kiss to his cheek, then nipped at his earlobe. Thorin's whole body twitched at that.

Bilbo pulled in a deep breath, surprised at how hard it was to stop what he was doing, then stepped back slightly. "I think," he said, his voice thick, "we should just take our clothes off and get into the bed."

Thorin reached for him, then shook his head sharply. "Good idea," he said, and began pulling his clothes off so quickly that Bilbo thought they might tear.

In the bed, they lay next to each other just looking for a second, then Thorin ran a gentle finger around the curve of Bilbo's ear. "I love you," he said. "I'm not with you just for this. If you –" 

"Hush," Bilbo said. "I never thought you were." He reached out and took one of Thorin's side braids, wrapping it carefully around his palm, then he tugged it gently. Thorin's eyes went glassy and Bilbo laughed, low and pleased. _I love seeing him like this._ He leaned forward and bit just below and behind Thorin's ear; the sound Thorin made brought Bilbo's cock from erect to throbbing. _I think this will be fun._

The next morning, Bilbo woke up with Thorin's head on his shoulder and their legs so entwined that Bilbo wasn't sure which lump under the covers were his own feet. Thorin's hair was tangled and there were several small dark marks on his chest and, to Bilbo's slight embarrassment, a clear bite mark on Thorin's right shoulder blade where Bilbo had bitten while he was fucking Thorin. He was saved from complete humiliation by the fact that Thorin had come so hard from being bitten that he'd greyed out. 

Thoughtfully, Bilbo ran a gentle finger around the mark; Thorin shivered against him and his cock twitched. _Well, that's something to remember for later._

There was a soft knock and scratch on the door. "Excuse me," a voice called from outside. "Breakfast will be ready in about twenty minutes."

"We'll be there," Bilbo called back. 

"What's for brefuss?" Thorin mumbled into Bilbo's chest, making him laugh.

"I've no idea. Come on, sleepyhead, let's go find out."

After breakfast – which turned out to be individual asparagus soufflés, with small hand-made meat pasties on the side, as well as a large fruit salad, fresh coffee, and coffee cake – they went back to their room. 

"I thought we could go to one of the beaches and maybe sit and watch the water and talk for a while," Bilbo said.

Thorin nodded. "That sounds nice. I haven't been to any of the beaches here in years. Have you been to the lighthouse?"

They drove past the cows and small ranches to the turn off for North Beach, then clambered down the crumbling cliff to the beach. The morning light caught the wave-tips and they spent a while wandering along the edge of the wet sand, showing each other the things they found tossed up by the waves. 

Finally, they found a place where the cliff made a little inlet. Bilbo dropped his backpack and pulled out two blankets. "Here," he said, "spread this out and let's have some lunch." They sat pressed together under the second blanket eating small sandwiches and drinking lavender soda.

As Bilbo brushed the crumbs off his chest, he turned to Thorin. "So, what _did_ Azog do? I know he's part of the – " Bilbo coughed slightly. "I know he's part of that poor boy's murder, but what did he do to you?" Thorin sat silently, watching the waves and Bilbo sighed. "I know he did something, Thorin, I'm not stupid or blind. You can't really be in a relationship with me – with _anyone_ else, until you deal with what he did."

Thorin looked down at his hands. "It shouldn't be such a big deal."

"Abuse is always a big deal."

"And you know this how?" Thorin's voice was sharp, but his expression was misery.

Bilbo chuckled and said, "Well, shall we say – it takes one to know one?"

Thorin's eyes narrowed. "That asshole, the one everybody keeps saying I'm better than. What's his name again?"

"In this case, his name doesn't matter, because I don't care about him and his opinions. He mostly just told me I'm fat and ugly, and unworthy of love, because of that." Bilbo laughed at Thorin's expression. "The funny thing is that what made me realize just how ridiculous he sounds is the people online on the _Erebor_ fandom pages. They were so angry about how I look, but…" He shrugged. "But it just _didn't matter_ anymore. He's just a asshole who said mean things to control me. Ultimately, he's small inside and out and I'm better off without him."

Thorin threw a small pebble toward the water. "I'd still like to meet up with him in a small room."

"Oh, don't waste your time on him. You should be working on dealing with whatever shit Azog convinced you of – everything he said is clearly all a lie."


	86. Eighty Six – Well, It's a Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things move forward between Bilbo and Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still in Britain! We leave on Sunday. It's been a great trip, filled with beauty and good food and interesting weather.

Thorin looked away, out over the ocean. Bilbo yawned, then stretched his back. "Listen," he said, "I know it's hard, and you don't actually have to talk to _me_ about it, but you should certainly talk to someone, because this isn't working." He watched the side of Thorin's face. "For you, or for anyone else."

Thorin swung around. "What do you mean?" 

Bilbo sighed and handed him another bottle of soda. "Seriously, Thorin, your family worries about you. My family worries about you. Keeping everything you've ever felt locked up inside you is a terrible way to live."

Thorin's mouth thinned. "I don't want to talk about it. Why can't I just let it stay in the past?"

Bilbo sipped his own drink. "Well, first of all, you're doing a shitty job of letting it 'stay in the past'. Second, because we're made up of things that happen in our pasts, that's how we become who we are today. So, those things are valid, they're a part of you, but by ignoring them, you're letting them control you." He shrugged. "So stop."

"It's not that easy." Thorin's voice was nearly inaudible above the sound of the waves. 

Bilbo ran a hand down Thorin's arm, letting his fingers close gently around Thorin's wrist. "I know. It's okay if it doesn't happen all at once, but it's not something you can put off any longer." He saw the waves' crashing reflected in Thorin's expression. "Look, how about this. You tell me one thing that Azog did – just open up a little – and then we'll go back to the room and read or do something relaxing."

Thorin pulled Bilbo's hand between his and cradled it, running one finger across Bilbo's palm and up his fingers. "He – " Thorin looked away from Bilbo, but not before Bilbo caught the gleam of tears in his eyes. "He'd do this thing where he'd tell me that I was too loud. Well." Thorin hitched a breath. "He wouldn't _tell_ me. He'd just walk away, if I was doing something he didn't like. He'd just… no matter who we were with or talking to or anything, if he thought I was being 'inappropriate', he'd first give me this look, then if I didn't get it, he'd just stand up and leave."

Bilbo rubbed Thorin's hand with the thumb of his trapped hand. "That sounds ugly," he said. 

Thorin sat with his mouth half open, then said, "And I asked him about it once and he denied it. But seriously, we'd been at the local sports bar and everything had been great – it was football season and he hadn't forgiven the Raiders for moving to LA. The rest of us didn't care – they were winning and it was just for fun, anyway. They were playing the Redskins in the playoffs and they scored. We were all yelling and screaming and he just sat there, eyes narrow, glaring at me, then he stormed out." Thorin rubbed his cheeks. "It's stupid, there wasn't any reason then or now to be upset about it. He's just a jerk."

"He is a jerk, but there's every reason to be upset at someone who's being controlling and an asshole." Bilbo knee-walked closer and wrapped his free hand around Thorin's shoulders. "I'm sorry he was such a fucking prick."

Thorin huffed a laugh into Bilbo's shoulder. "I haven't thought about that in years."

Bilbo wrapped his arms tightly around Thorin and just held on, feeling the way Thorin's breathing slowly evened out.

As they walked back to the car, Bilbo had a thought. He bent over and picked up a hand sized rock. "Hey, Thorin," he said, handing him the rock. It was grey with a white seam running through it. "So, that memory, the one of Azog being a shitbag at the bar? Think about it for a minute, let it really fill you and remember all of it and how it made you feel. Then put all of the bad parts of that memory into the rock in your hand and throw it as far as you can into the ocean."

Thorin looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "That's the worst kind of mumbo-jumbo woo sort of thing I've ever heard." His voice was flat, but his eyes looked amused.

"If that's the worst you've heard, you haven't been paying attention." Bilbo grinned. "Now throw that bad stuff away."

Thorin stared at him, then shook his head and sighed. "You won't move until I do this, will you?"

Bilbo shook his head, trying to look unruffled. 

"If only to get you moving again," Thorin muttered. He heaved the rock out into the waves, where it made a small splash, quickly covered up by the foam from incoming waves. 

Bilbo sighed. _It was a silly idea. You didn't really expect him to take it seriously._

But Thorin stood still, glaring at the spot where the rock had gone. His face slowly grew angrier and tighter, then he turned to face Bilbo. "Give me another rock," he said, his voice harsh. 

Bilbo picked up a second rock. This one was rougher, sort of angular, and a rusty red color. Thorin glared at it, then squeezed it in his hand so hard all his joints showed white. With a sound something between a shriek and a bellow, he threw the rock. It sailed out, far past where the first had dropped, hitting the water at a spot before most of the waves grew taller. 

Thorin stood panting, his face alternating between flushed and white, staring at the horizon. Suddenly he sobbed in a breath and shouted, "You hateful asshole, you ruined me."

_Not ruined, love. Just dented._

***

That night, they ate at a different small restaurant. They chatted about Fili and Kili's plans with the Klezmer group and other light topics. Thorin was very proud of his nephews and lit up when he discussed them. 

They spent much of the rest of the night rediscovering ways to make each other feel good and finding new ones. 

***

Bilbo brought Thorin home on Friday afternoon, then drove across the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge, as always intrigued by how high the bridge leaped over the water and trying to ignore his worries about being on the bridge when the Big One went off.

On the way home, he stopped off at the grocery store and picked up food for the next week. He found himself losing focus; he'd pick up a package of pasta and drop it in the cart, then realize he'd been staring blankly at the wall of pasta sauce jars for an unknown time. Shaking his head sharply, he said aloud, "You need coffee, young man," and kept walking.

At home, he unloaded the car, let Frodo know he was home and planning on lasagne for dinner, then made a large pot of coffee. While it was brewing, he busied himself with cooking, still feeling a little distracted. His first cup of coffee helped, but he still had to remind himself to pour the cheese sauce over the lasagne before putting it into the oven just as layered meat and noodles.

Finally, that all done, he reached for his phone to set a timer.

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_Thank you. I had a very good time. I … there are things I want to say, but I don't know how.  
_

Bilbo sat down in the living room and smiled at his phone. 

_From: Bilbo  
To: Thorin_

_You're welcome. You're more than welcome. I loved spending the time with you. If there are things you want to say – or need to say – I've always been a fan of just, you know, saying them.  
_

He wandered into his office and sat down, staring at the computer screen. He tapped the keyboard and the screen flickered to life, but he couldn’t generate any interest in work. After a long moment, he shrugged, muttered, "What the hell, it's the weekend." and turned the computer off again. 

He ended up in the bedroom. After putting away his travel things and tossing his clothes in the hamper, he gave up and, checking the lasagne timer, lay down for a nap.

The next week passed in a bit of a blur. He'd managed to catch up with grading and lab work over the weekend, then spent the week barely keeping ahead of committee meetings and the first set of midterms. Each day was lightened by emails or texts from Thorin, at least one of each every day.

Wednesday afternoon, Bilbo sat in his office at school and rubbed his eyes. _I'm so tired. I don't want to cook. Maybe we should go out and get Chinese._

Just then his phone pinged. 

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_I've been thinking about what you said at dinner at my house. I don't know if I ever asked you your favorite food.  
_

_From: Bilbo  
To: Thorin_

_Favorite singular food, or type? I like sweets – I think you know that already – but if I had to pick a single one, it might be baklava. Or really good perfectly sweet-tart strawberries, macerated in brown sugar and served over meringue and cream._

_What about you?  
_

_From: Thorin  
To: Bilbo_

_Well, now I want that. Everything else I was thinking about has gone from my mind.  
_

Bilbo stared at his phone, thinking. After a few moments, he looked at Shelob, who was standing on her back four legs and leaning on the glass with her front legs. She appeared to be watching him. He waved at her, ignoring the way that her shifting legs made it look like she was waving back, and tapped his phone.

_From: Bilbo  
To: Thorin_

_I don't work on Friday. Would you like to come over tomorrow for dinner and, maybe, have a sleepover?  
___

__Bilbo sat in the cafeteria at Lorien the next day, reading a paper on his phone, when someone sat down across from him. He glanced up, then put his phone down._ _

__"Dr Peredhil!"_ _

__"Elrond, please." Elrond was wearing jeans and a light grey tunic embroidered with long curling lines and shapes around the hem, cuff, and neckline._ _

__Bilbo smiled. "How are you? Are you here to visit, um, your relative?"_ _

__Elrond chuckled. "I didn't know that you didn't know." He paused for a second, then shrugged and carried on. "I was very amused when Arwen told me how surprised you'd been."_ _

__"I keep finding out that people I know somehow know each other. It's a reminder that the Bay Area's a small place, really." Bilbo nudged his phone, straightening it slightly. "Ah, I've a question for you, if you don't mind."_ _

__Elrond sat slightly straighter. "Frodo isn't in any trouble? He was a little stiff last week."_ _

__"Oh, nothing like that. It's just that I don't actually know what kind of, erm." Bilbo gestured weakly at Elrond and coughed. "What your specialty is."_ _

__"You want to know exactly what kinds of heads I shrink." Elrond said, with a smile._ _

__Bilbo felt his mouth drop open. Elrond burst into laughter._ _

__"Oh, your face is a study," Elrond said. "It's a perfectly reasonable question. I specialize in trauma survivors, people who have been exposed to sudden, unexpected events or disasters." He crossed his legs. "I don't often take patients as young as Frodo, but he is a truly special young man."_ _

__Bilbo smiled. "That he is." He paused and they were silent in the crowded room. "The thing is, I've another, um, friend who might need some help and I have no idea how to help him. I know I can't be a therapist, but I don't know how to help him find one."_ _

__All traces of amusement left Elrond's face, leaving him suddenly forbidding and distant. "Does this friend want therapy? If he does not, and you're meddling simply because you think it's 'in his best interests'…"_ _

__Bilbo held up both hands. "Oh, nothing like that. I have suggested to him that he see someone – he's got a years-long history of emotional and verbal abuse starting from a young age, and he and I have discussed him finding someone professional to talk to about it. I don't know if he's really interested, but I do know that I'd like to help him however I can, and if that means finding out how one … finds qualified professionals, then I'll do that." He looked into Elrond's eyes. "I'd never try to force him, or anyone else, to do something against their will."_ _

__Elrond's eyes narrowed slightly and he looked closely at Bilbo. After a long moment in which Bilbo felt a little as if he were being examined by someone with an electron microscope, Elrond nodded._ _

__"I do not take patients with those particular issues myself, but I can – and will – happily provide your friend with references, should he ask me himself."_ _

__Bilbo nodded. "That's excellent. That's really what I was hoping for – I have no idea how one 'tests' therapists to find one who's a good match. I mean, I guess maybe he could use Yelp reviews, but …" He shrugged. "It seems like such a difficult and important choice. It would be great if you could offer references."_ _

__Elrond smiled and Bilbo felt a little as if he'd passed an unexpected test. "It's good to meet someone who cares so much for a friend."_ _

__***_ _

__On the way home, Bilbo stopped off at the expensive super-organic grocery store and picked up organic hot-house strawberries, thick steaks, and fresh salad ingredients._ _

__At home, while he cut the strawberries and mixed them with sugar, he told Frodo about his conversation with Elrond. Frodo started laughing when Bilbo described the face Elrond had made._ _

__"Oh yeah," Frodo said. "He makes that one when he thinks you're not working hard enough." He was doing math homework and Bilbo leaned over his shoulder to look at it._ _

__"Are you sure that you're supposed to be doing it that way?" Bilbo asked, pointing to a line Frodo had just written. It read, "x(-(1/y)*2x) = Sam is cute"_ _

__Frodo looked down at his work and blushed. "I'm going to my room," he said loftily, and scooped up his papers, dropping them in his sling. "I'll come out for dinner."_ _

__Bilbo laughed as he left the room._ _

__When the doorbell rang, a few minutes later, Bilbo was greeted by a large bouquet of flowers, a pound box of See's Nuts and Chews chocolates, and Thorin, looking a bit sheepish._ _

__Thorin blushed. "'These don't say anything. At least, I don't think they do. I just asked for a large happy bouquet at the flower market."_ _

__"I'll just get that crystal vase you sent me, shall I?" Bilbo asked, taking the flowers._ _


	87. Eighty Seven – I Don't Want to Talk About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations are hard and talking things out can be even harder.

In the kitchen, Bilbo set the flowers in the sink and hunted through the upper cabinets until he found where he'd stuffed the vase. When he pulled it out, he grimaced. 

"Sorry," he said. "Looks like it needs a rinse." 

"Thank you for keeping it," Thorin said, reaching out to stroke a finger along one of the facets as Bilbo filled it with fresh water. "It was my grandmother's."

Bilbo set the vase on the counter and looked at Thorin, who glanced at him, then looked away. "You sent me _that bouquet_ in your grandmother's crystal vase? Without telling me it was hers?" He rubbed his nose and was startled to realise his hand was wet. "What if I'd thrown it out?"

Thorin still wouldn't look at him, but he shrugged. "Then it would have been thrown out." He paused and Bilbo sighed, turning back to the current bouquet, which, as Thorin had hoped, didn't say much of anything at all.

"I'm sorry about that bouquet, by the way," Thorin said. "I was, well. I was a bit drunk and I didn't even remember sending it until a few days later when I found the list of flowers on the desk in my studio." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I couldn't bear to think that I'd never be able to say what I wanted to, even though I knew you'd be better off without me – " 

"None of that, please," Bilbo said sharply. "I get to choose what and who I want in my life." He arranged the flowers and dried the vase before setting it in the center of the table. "However, that bouquet was … "

"Oh, did you show him the dragon vase?" Frodo leaned in from the hallway. "Hi, Thorin, nice flowers." 

"Hey kid," Thorin said, smiling. "How are you?" He ruffled Frodo's hair, laughing as Frodo twisted to try to avoid it. "What's this about a dragon vase?"

Bilbo shook his head. "I got another bouquet on Valentine's Day. I'm not sure who it's from – I thought I knew, but now I'm not sure. Anyway." He led the way into the living room and opened the glass fronted case to take out the Amphora vase. "The other flowers were commercial, but they came in this."

Thorin's hands closed around the vase carefully, and Bilbo had a momentary vision of Thror teaching a tiny Thorin how to be careful with antiques. Thorin ran a gentle finger over the dragon's nose and up its neck, then he turned the vase over and checked the bottom. "This is an Amphora," he said.

"Yes," Bilbo responded, dry. "I know. I _didn't know_ when I got it, and I very nearly left it at school. Gandalf Sijed, the dean of my department, told me what it is." He put the vase back on the shelf and closed the glass front.

When they were back in the kitchen, Thorin asked "Who'd give you an antique vase?" He sat down at the table as Bilbo pulled out the package of steaks from the fridge. Bilbo snorted, making Thorin huff a laugh. "Well, okay, yeah, but I gave you a _family heirloom_."

Bilbo felt a chill run down his spine. He half turned to Thorin, trying to figure out what about the thought of a 'family heirloom' was making him twitchy. 

"I mean," Thorin continued, not noticing Bilbo's movement. "that dragon vase must have cost a couple of thousand dollars, at least."

Bilbo turned around and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. "Are you saying I'm not worth that? And how much do you think your grandmother's vase is worth?"

Thorin blanched. "I don't – I mean, you're worth everything, but it's odd, don't you think? To send an expensive antique and not include your name?"

"How'd you know there wasn't a name?" Frodo looked up from his phone.

"Your uncle said he didn't know who it was from," Thorin replied, looking a bit confused. "So, there couldn't have been a card. Right?" He looked at Bilbo, still seeming anxious. "It's not that I think you shouldn't be given –" 

Bilbo laughed. "Thorin, how much do you think your grandmother's vase is worth?"

Thorin pulled his head back and looked at the vase on the table. "I don't know. A hundred dollars?"

"Try nearly five hundred," Bilbo said, watching as Thorin jerked slightly. "I looked it up a while ago. And you're off about the value of the dragon vase as well."

Thorin's eyebrows pulled together. "Five thousand dollars?"

"Twenty one," Bilbo said, his voice even. He could see Frodo's eyes widening behind Thorin, who'd gone very still.

"Someone you don't know sent you a vase worth twenty one thousand dollars." Thorin looked like couldn't believe what he was saying. "And you keep it in a cabinet in your living room."

Bilbo shrugged. "It's pretty. It seems a waste to hide it somewhere." He turned back to his steaks. "But I do take your point. It's an odd thing to get as a gift. Especially an anonymous one."

"You said you thought you knew who it was from?" Thorin leaned forward.

"I'd thought it came from Azog until I found its last auction price. Then the only people possible were you and Smaug." Bilbo rubbed cumin and ancho chili powder into the steaks and sprinkled them with lime juice. "Only, you'd sent _that_ bouquet and this vase." He nodded his head at the vase on the table. "So, I figured it probably wasn't you either."

"Leaving Smaug," Thorin said.

"Right." Bilbo turned on the heat under the griddle and checked the vegetables roasting in the oven. "It will be dinner time in about twenty minutes – Thorin can you set the table?"

The conversation over dinner avoided the topic of the vases, by unspoken mutual agreement. Frodo entertained them by telling stories about his day at school. 

"How was Elrond?" Bilbo asked, as he stood to gather the plates after they'd finished eating. 

"He was okay," Frodo shrugged. "He gave me some work to do."

Thorin looked back and forth between Bilbo and Frodo. "Elrond?"

 _Now's as good a time as any to bring this up._ Bilbo sat at the table.

But before Bilbo could say anything, Frodo said, "He's my therapist. Bilbo heard about him from his boss. Bilbo's boss, I mean."

"Your dean gave you therapist recommendations?" 

Bilbo chuckled. "No, Dr Nenya did, at Lorien. It turns out that Elrond is her son-in-law, and my friend Arwen's father." Bilbo laced his fingers together and set his hands on the table. "He's a very experienced therapist and he's been very helpful for Frodo. So, ah, I spoke to him and he said he'd be willing to give you recommendations, if you called him."

Thorin's expression darkened. "Recommendations for what?"

"For therapists. He specializes in trauma victims, so he wouldn't be a good fit for you, but –"

"Why are you asking other people about therapists for me?" Thorin's face was a stormcloud; he'd crossed his arms so tightly the shoulder seams of his shirt pulled slightly.

"I'm not asking random people," Bilbo started, but Frodo interrupted him.

"He's great." Frodo sounded sharp. "And there's nothing wrong with having someone to talk to about stuff. And it's not fair to make your family be your therapist."

"It's fine for you –" Thorin said, then stopped, his mouth still slightly open. After a moment, he closed his mouth and eyes and breathed in deeply. "Thank you for your concern," he finally said, "but I don't need to … have someone to talk to."

Frodo stood up. "I'm going to do more homework. Call me when it's time for dessert." He swept from the room without looking at Thorin and Bilbo found himself amused and impressed by how well Frodo had kept his temper.

"I'm sorry," Thorin said. "I didn't mean to make him think I think less of him for talking to a therapist."

Bilbo sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes. "You can apologize to him later. I'm sorry – I talked to Elrond before I had a chance to talk to you about it. I didn't know when I'd see him again." He pressed his lips together. "And I wasn't kidding about you needing to have help dealing with stuff. I know that you think you should be able to, I don't know, _tough it out_ , but that's clearly not working in the long run, is it?" 

Thorin's arms tightened, then he dropped them into his lap. 

"So," Bilbo continued, "I asked Elrond if he had any recommendations. I don't know how one goes about choosing a therapist. He quizzed me about my motives, then said that he'd only give you recommendations if you asked yourself." 

"Is this a condition for us being back together?" Thorin's voice was very low. 

Bilbo felt his shoulders droop. "No. I'm not going to coerce you into this, Thorin. But you have to open up to someone about what happened with Azog. It's getting in the way of you having healthy relationships." 

Thorin slumped forward until his head was on the table. "This is a bad idea," he said. 

Bilbo could barely hear him. "What is?"

"Me being with you. You should be with –" 

"Stop. _This_ is exactly what I'm talking about. This isn't healthy. Either I have to constantly remind you that I'm choosing to be with you, or we have to let Azog's abuse … win, for lack of a better word for it." Bilbo ran a hand up and down along Thorin's back. "Look, you don't have to do anything fast, but how about I give you Elrond's card and you can call or email in your own time."

Thorin shifted until he was looking up at Bilbo. His eyes were nearly grey, as if the blue color had drained out of them. "All right," he said. "Can I have a hug?"

They moved to the living room and sat together on the couch, Thorin lying back against the couch arm and Bilbo lying back against his chest. "So," Thorin said, and Bilbo could feel the low vibrations of his voice moving through his own body. "I've been working on some new songs, but I'm not sure they're really ready. I was thinking of trying to play the harp in one of them."

Bilbo twisted so he could look up at Thorin's face. "On stage? The one I got you?"

"That very one," Thorin said. "It's a good size for taking on tour."

Bilbo felt a rush of unexpected dismay. "Are you going on tour soon?"

Thorin shrugged and rubbed his hands along Bilbo's arms. "We have a short summer tour scheduled. I was kind of hoping …" He bent his head and buried his nose in Bilbo's hair. "thtyd cmthme."

"I'm sorry, what? I didn't hear any of that." Bilbo tried to sit up, but Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo's chest. 

"I was hoping you could come with me. On tour," Thorin said.

"You mean, like visit? Like I did in Baltimore?" Bilbo squirmed and Thorin released him so he could turn around to face him.

Thorin shrugged. "Well, I was sort of hoping you could actually come _with_ me, even if it's just for a few days. I'd love for you to see what it's like."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "That sounds interesting, but I remember you describing it as sort of boring."

Thorin looked a bit sheepish. "It would be less boring with two of us?"

Bilbo snorted. "You're kidding. There are, what six people in the band? Not counting all the support staff, what do you call them? I know they're not groupies."

Thorin started laughing. "Oh! Dwalin hates it when people call him that. No," he grinned. "They're 'Roadies'." He shifted so he was sitting higher on the couch. "Anyway, I know you can't come for the whole tour, but I thought it might be nice to have you come for a week, maybe? In the middle, so we'd be warmed up?"

Bilbo leaned back against him again. "Well, let me know what dates you're thinking of and I'll check my schedule. If it's after mid-June, school will be out, so there would just be my research and Lorien."

A little while later, Frodo stuck his head around the door. "Isn't it time for dessert yet?"

Bilbo, who'd half drifted off against Thorin's chest, startled slightly, then laughed. "Okay, kiddo, give me a minute." He and Thorin lay quietly for another minute, then Bilbo said, "I guess it's time for strawberries, huh?"

In the kitchen, he pulled out a deep non-stick pan and lit the stove. After it was warm, he poured the strawberries and all the juice into the pan and started stirring. When the strawberries started to slump, he poured in a little balsamic vinegar and stirred, heating until the whole mixture was warm. 

While he'd been watching the cooking, Frodo had got Thorin to fill three bowls with french vanilla ice cream. Bilbo portioned out the strawberries and balsamic vinegar over the ice cream and grinned at Thorin's slightly bemused look.

"Trust me," Bilbo said.

"Implicitly," Thorin replied, and sat down with his bowl. Next to him, Frodo was halfway done with his own serving already. Thorin took a bite and stopped moving. His eyes closed and he groaned a little as he chewed and swallowed. 

Frodo waggled his eyebrows at Bilbo, who dropped his face into his hand. 

"Thanks, Uncle Bilbo," Frodo said, a few moments later, when his bowl was empty. "I'll see you tomorrow." He smirked at Bilbo, then dove down the hall toward his bedroom. 

Thorin opened his eyes. "This is amazing. I had no idea."

"I heard about it from a friend and didn't believe him until he made me try it. Sometimes I just have it with cream. I've been thinking of adding mint." Bilbo licked his spoon. "I never remember in time."

Thorin scooped more into his mouth. "I wonder how this would go with peaches."

"Ohh," Bilbo said, dreamily, "that's a good idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This strawberry dish? AMAZING. Seriously, give it a try.
> 
> Oh, and here's the [vase](https://www.rubylane.com/item/381215-CC361/Bohemian-lead-crystal-vase-dated-turn).


	88. Eighty Eight – New Growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo have a pleasant weekend and come to some conclusions about Smaug.

As they finished cleaning up the kitchen, Frodo stuck his head around the door. "Hey, uh, Uncle Bilbo? Can I stay over at Sam's? I mean –" He shot a look at Thorin, who was stretching up to put something away on one of the top shelves in the cabinets. "Rosie thought you might want, um…"

Bilbo snorted, then changed his expression to bland calmness when Thorin looked around. "Yes, Frodo, that sounds like a very kind idea on Rosie's part. Should I talk to his parents?"

Thorin looked confused. "My parents?"

"Heh, uh, no, thanks, Bilbo," Frodo said, keeping his eyes on Bilbo's. "We've got it all worked out." He stepped fully into the door and Bilbo saw he'd already packed a bag with stuff to bring. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Bilbo smiled. "Sure, kiddo. And tell Rosie I say thanks."

Thorin watched as Frodo flew out the door and across the back yard. "I – is he leaving because of what I said about therapy?"

"Oh, no," Bilbo said, moving closer to Thorin and hugging him. "Rosie scared him by saying that you and I might have sex while you're over. The very thought of Adults Having Sex –" 

Thorin started laughing. "Oh yes. I remember when I found out that my parents had sex more than the required three times. I couldn’t look at my father for days."

That evening, in bed, Bilbo looked over at Thorin; his tousled hair spread wantonly over the pillow, and his eyes were barely open. He smiled at Bilbo, then blinked several times. 

"Go to sleep," Bilbo whispered, running a hand up Thorin's arm and over his shoulder. Thorin blinked again, then let his eyes close as Bilbo stroked his hair back from his face. Bilbo kept stroking Thorin's hair, enjoying the way the strands tangled themselves around his fingers; it felt as if they were trying to stroke him back.

Just as he settled down to go to sleep himself, Thorin said, his voice thick with fatigue, "I'll call that guy on Monday. Don't let me forget, 'kay?"

After a breakfast of soufflé omelettes the next morning, Bilbo asked Thorin what he'd like to do over the weekend. 

Thorin looked into his coffee mug and shrugged. "I just want to spend time with you, if you don't mind. We don't have to do anything special. What would you do, if I weren't here?"

Bilbo drained his own coffee and set the mug down sharply. "How strong are you feeling, big boy?"

Thorin's face showed his confusion. "Um, as strong as usual?"

"Good, because it's time to work on the garden. I'd started, before … well, before everything happened in Lysander. So, it's time to actually get going. I need soil and some manure and we should go look at the plant starts." He stood. "Are you done? I want tomatoes."

Thorin finished his own coffee and stood. "Should we go in my truck?"

They pulled up in front of the nursery and got out. Thorin turned around, looking at everything. "Wow," he said, "I had no idea this was here. Is that the ferry terminal?"

"Yes," Bilbo said, grabbing a cart and pushing it through the gate. "Sometimes, before I got Frodo, I'd come down here early on Saturdays and go into the city for the Farmer's Market." He paused and looked at a stack of bags of soil. "I think I'll need about six bags, can you get those on here for me?" 

Thorin, who'd trailed after him, smiled slowly and pulled his hair back into a pony tail. "Sure. Let me just get ready." He rolled up one sleeve, making sure Bilbo was watching, then rolled up the other. Finally, he settled his shoulders and picked up two bags of soil at a time, placing them on the flat cart. When he'd moved all six bags to the cart, he dusted off his hands and idly posed with his hands on his hips.

Bilbo laughed. "Very manly, yes, I admire _all_ your muscles. Now come along and help me choose which tomatoes to try this year."

They wandered along the racks, leaving the cart in the main aisle. Bilbo leaned in and stroked and smelled the different plants, rubbing some of the leaves between his fingers. "I like this one. I had it last year. It's got these little pointy pendant … what?" Thorin was leaning on one of the poles supporting the small wooden roof of the rack and smiling slightly. 

"You're just so … " Thorin waved a hand. "I didn't expect all of this. I thought we were going to Home Depot or something. I didn't really think that there'd be lots of tiny little plants with – what did you say? Pointy pendants tomatoes?"

"Green Tiger tomatoes," Bilbo said, picking up three of the starts and putting them on top of the bags of soil. "You'll love them when I make them into salad with some fresh basil, balsamic vinegar, onion, and sharp cheese."

"I'm sure I will," Thorin said, his voice deep. "Are there others?" He trailed behind Bilbo, asking questions about the different types of tomato Bilbo was choosing. "What about these?" he asked, pointing to a section of plants with dark leaves. "Black Prince – that sounds cool."

Bilbo smiled from the next rack over where he'd been inspecting leeks. "Why don't you put some in the cart? Two's a good number to start with."

Outside the cashier's hut, Thorin stroked the old black and white cat lying in a sunny spot on the cement while Bilbo chatted with the woman on staff that day, Barbara. 

She leaned in while Bilbo was signing the credit card slip. "Bilbo, is that really Thorin Oakenshield?" she whispered. He stiffened and she put a hand on his shoulder. "It's just – he's even hotter up close."

Bilbo snorted a laugh. "You can't tell anyone, right?" 

Barbara shook her head, eyes wide, and made an X over her chest. "I swear," she said. 

"It is who you think and he is every bit as hot as he looks." Bilbo grinned as she fanned herself with a hand.

"Well," Thorin said, standing in the hut doorway. "Want me to get started loading this into the truck?" Barbara squeaked, but Bilbo just nodded. 

"Sure. Can you set the soil bags around the plants so they don't slide around on the way home?" 

Thorin nodded, then before he turned to leave, he said to Barbara, "You've got a great cat. And I like all the succulents."

Bilbo grinned at Barbara. "Have a good weekend. I'll come back when the brassicas are ready, okay?"

She nodded. "In about a month, I think. It's going to be hot this year. And bring your new assistant. We can always use something nice to look at."

In the truck, Bilbo directed them further along Alameda. After a couple of minutes, Thorin turned to him and smirked, "So. She liked your assistant?"

Bilbo started laughing. "Oh go on," he said. "You're just showing off. Turn right here." He pointed to a gate in a chain link fence between two large brick buildings. "Park at the back. We can't stay here – the plants need to get put in the ground – but let's get a couple of growlers while we're up here?"

They spent the rest of the day working out in Bilbo's back yard. After the first hour, Sam peeked over the wall between the two yards and within the next ten minutes, Bilbo had more helpers than he'd bargained on.

Pippin and Merry weren't much use at planting out the new starts, but Bilbo gave them both large shovels and set them to digging out the last of last year's soil and mixing it with the fresh soil in large plastic bins. Then he pointed them at the bags of manure he and Thorin had bought last and laughed as they made faces at the smell. 

By late afternoon, all the plants he'd bought had been re-potted and all of his raised beds had been filled with refreshed soil. 

"Thanks guys," he said, stretching and twisting to make the knot at the small of his back release. "Let's get rinsed off – I'll go first so I can start cooking – and then let's have a barbecue?" Bell, who'd been helping Merry and Pippin amend the soil, grinned at him. 

"I'll get started as well," she said. "I'm sure there's something good in my freezer. I'll make a potato salad." She clambered over to her side of the wall and Bilbo smiled at Holman.

Dinner was raucous; Bilbo found ribs in his freezer to go with the chicken and sausages Bell had. Sam and Rosie had commandeered Bilbo's oven and produced tasty lemon cupcakes. After dinner, the adults collapsed into the reclining outdoor chairs Bilbo had put away two summers before into his small shed. The kids had found glow in the dark necklaces from somewhere and were running around on the hill above their back yards like demented neon fireflies.

"I was thinking," Holman said, his voice low. "Seems like you've had a load of trouble recently, but I can't quite figure if it's all connected. I mean," he gestured broadly with his hand, nearly spilling some of his beer. "Does this Ozog fellow really know who the stone thing belonged to? If he stole it from Thorin's granda, mightn't he have thought he was the real owner?"

Bilbo sat up on his elbows in his chair. "Wait, wait. That's true. Azog might not have thought about who actually owned the Arkenstone. He was just stealing something from Thorin's grandfather, something that looked expensive."

Thorin tucked his hands behind his head. "What difference does that make?"

"Well." Bilbo sat up and looked at Holman, who was tipping his beer glass from side to side. "First of all, it means that they're not working together now. Which is both good and bad." He ran his fingers through his hair. "It also means we can deal with Smaug without worrying that it'll interfere with the case against Azog and Bolg."

"Why do you need to do anything with Smaug?" Bell asked from her chair, deep in the shadows.

"He threatened to have Bilbo's books blackballed," Thorin said. His tone was venomous and Holman shot him a sharp glance.

"Can he do that?" Bell sounded startled.

"No," Bilbo said. "He's a popular writer, but he's not a publisher. And he's not _my_ publisher, so all he can do is say mean things. And, as he's based his whole persona on something which is eminently and easily disprovable, it's a particularly stupid thing for him to do." Bilbo smiled, feeling very amused. "It's as if he's forgotten that I work for a university, with all the attendant research opportunities that affords me."

Thorin sat up suddenly. "Really? I – I know you said that it wouldn't be a problem, but –" 

"Thorin," Bilbo said, reaching out and squeezing his knee. "There hasn't been a royal family in Albania in – well, nearly in forever. And even when there _was_ a King of Albania, it wasn't a long-lasting thing. I think the first one was in the late 1200s but then the area got eaten by the Ottomans and within a hundred years, the whole area was re-taken by Albanian nobles." 

Thorin rubbed his eyes. "I might have had too much beer. If there are Albanian nobles, couldn't he be from them?"

Bilbo shrugged. "He could be, but I think he said that he's descended both from 'Albanian royalty' _and_ Skanderbeg, which is sort of contradictory, given that the original King of Albania was actually Sicilian and Skanderbeg and the later Albanian royal families were from Albania itself." Bilbo sighed, leaning back on one arm. "He _could_ mean that he's descended from Skanderbeg himself but that seems unlikely as well. Certainly it's within possibility, but he'd have to have been a by blow of someone born on the wrong side of the blanket."

Thorin stared at him. "How do you know all this?"

Bilbo smiled. "I asked the history department. Turns out there's a professor there who despises Smaug and has done a lot of research into his background. She's been studying Medieval Eastern Europe all her life and she hates that he's spreading what she called 'pseudo-historical lies and smear jobs' about her favorite area."

Holman snorted. "So, okay, then you've got this guy's fancy rock and proof that he's not who he says he is. What next?"

"What's next is that we all go to bed," Bell said. She swung her legs down from her chair and stood up. "We're not going to get anything solved now. Come on, you big bear," she said, rubbing Holman's shoulder. "Call the cubs in for the night."

Frodo elected to stay with Sam and the rest of his friends leaving Bilbo and Thorin to shut the kitchen door behind themselves and climb into bed together. Thorin yawned and wrapped himself around Bilbo, tucking his nose into the curve of Bilbo's neck.

"Tired," he said, his breath making Bilbo shiver. "I haven't done work like that in ages."

The next morning, over a late breakfast, Thorin turned to Bilbo. "What _do_ you want to do about Smaug?"

Bilbo propped his feet up on Thorin's lap. "I don't know. I don't care if he thinks he can threaten me – he really doesn't have that kind of power. I don't like that if he does it to me, he's probably doing it to others, though, and I certainly don't think he should get the Arkenstone."

"No," Thorin said, digging his thumbs into Bilbo's feet and smiling at Bilbo's groan. "It's not his."

"I think," Bilbo said, as soon as he could think again, "that the stone should go to a museum. I'll ask Dr Withywindle if she can recommend one."

Thorin nodded. "All right. That seems reasonable." The kitchen was silent, then Thorin said, "That doesn't really fix his threats, though."

"No," Bilbo said, thoughtfully. "But maybe we can use it – and our knowledge about his lies – to use his techniques against him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The nursery is [Ploughshares](http://ploughsharesnursery.com/about-us/); they do great work and have lovely plants. The green pointy tomatoes are [these](http://www.rareseeds.com/green-ti/) and they're *amazing*.


	89. Eighty Nine – More Things Come To Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More old family history is brought into the open, and then things get worse.

Thorin sat up. "What do you mean?"

Bilbo shoved his foot at Thorin, who'd stopped rubbing it. "I'm not exactly sure, but there's something brewing in the back of my head." He wiggled his toes. "It'll firm up if I ignore it. So. Are you ready for more work in the garden?"

"More? What else are you going to grow out there? A jungle?"

"Yup," Bilbo said, swinging his feet down to the floor. "A giant garden jungle, filled with vegetable plants and pretty flowers. You'll be glad when I get fresh zucchini and cucumbers and peas."

Thorin sat forward. "Oh, I like fresh peas."

This time, Bilbo had them go to a nursery nearer his house. While Bilbo wandered through the vegetable starts, Thorin drifted off. When Bilbo was finished shopping, he pushed his cart through the rows of plants, looking for Thorin's tall bulk. Finally, he turned the corner to the Drought Tolerant section and found Thorin carrying a basket filled with precariously stacked succulents. He had a tall _haworthia_ in his hand and was clearly trying to see if there was room in the basket.

"So," Bilbo said, leaning on the cart handle. "You like succulents?"

Thorin jumped and looked up, his expression a little sheepish. "Uh, yes?" He looked at Bilbo's very full cart, then chuckled. "Will there be room for all of that in the beds?"

"Only if your plants go in the front of the house," Bilbo smiled.

They stopped off for burgers and fries at Five Guys on the way back, making sure to get burgers for everyone, but only two large orders of fries. Back at Bilbo's house, Frodo and Sam – the others had already gone home – managed to eat nearly all of the fries as well as two cheeseburgers each.

"I don't want to know where you're putting it all," Thorin groaned good-naturedly. He stood and began clearing up the paper and foil wrappers, carefully separating out the recyclables. The afternoon sun caught on his hair and lit his shoulders, and Bilbo felt himself warming in response.

"Well," he said, standing up and cracking his knuckles. "Time to finish the garden." He laughed as Frodo and Thorin groaned. "Come on, kids. You know you'll want to eat the fruits of our labors."

"Oh god," Frodo moaned. "Do you have to? With the puns and everything? Gross."

That evening, over dinner, Bilbo said, "I've been thinking about the Arkenstone and Smaug." 

Thorin looked up from twirling his spaghetti into a spoon and raised his eyebrows. 

Bilbo continued, "Well, we know that the stone should go to a museum. I assume that means we want it to go to a museum in Albania." 

"Does Albania even _have_ a museum?" Frodo wondered. 

Thorin shrugged. "Most likely, but we could look that up." 

"Kid, Albania is in Eastern Europe, not one of the outer moons of Neptune. There'll be a museum," Bilbo said with a snort. "However, I think we might be able to get him to say that all stolen archeological objects should be returned to their original country. You know, the way people keep agitating for the Elgin Marbles to be returned to Greece."

"Elgin Marbles?" Frodo pulled out his phone and started tapping. 

"Sure," Thorin said, "but say it to whom?"

Bilbo propped his head in his hand. "I'm not sure. I'm still thinking about it. But if he's publicly said that stolen archeological things go to museums – you know." He gestured broadly. "'Are rightfully the possession of the government of the country of origin' or something like that. Anyway, if he's said that in public, then it's hard for him to insist that he be given the stone back."

Frodo looked up. "So, this guy Elgin got permission to take castings and stuff of the Parthenon and to take away little pieces which fell off so he stole the whole thing? What the hell?"

Bilbo started laughing. "Indeed." He stood up. "I made apple pie. Want some?" 

Thorin stood up to make coffee while Bilbo cut thick slices of the pie and put them on the table. 

"No really," Frodo said. "How can that be okay?"

Bilbo sat down. "Things were a little different then, kiddo. It's not right – it wasn't right then, although there are arguments that historical relics might be safer in less war-torn areas. I'm not arguing either side," he said, raising his hands at Frodo's expression. "I'm just reporting. There have been some terrible archeological losses – the museums and libraries in Iraq were looted and destroyed in the Gulf Wars." 

Thorin set the cups of coffee down on the table, then fell into his own chair. "We won't discuss whether or not those wars were justified," he said, taking a bite of pie. 

"Well," said Bilbo, looking at the clock. "Probably not tonight, at any rate. I'm up for that discussion some other time. Preferably some time when the nausea of thinking about the people who started those wars won't affect how my pie tastes." He ate some of his slice of pie and sighed. "Anyway, I just thought of something else. How do we know the stone even came from Albania? I mean, there's no record of it in your grandfather's books."

Thorin licked crumbs off his fork. "Good point. I could ask my father to send me Grandda's old notes, but then I'd have to explain why."

Bilbo pressed his lips together, thinking of the conversation he'd overheard in Thorin's father's kitchen. 

Frodo looked back and forth between them. "Does he not want you to do this?"

Thorin sighed deeply, then sat forward, resting his elbows on the table and looking at his hands. "My father is not happy that we're pursuing legal action against Azog and Bolg." He didn't look up at Frodo, but Bilbo saw Frodo's confusion. "He'd rather we just let things go, because it makes his life easier, and makes it so he doesn't have to think about things in the past that he doesn't like to remember."

"What things?" Frodo's voice was small in the kitchen.

"We didn't really live in Lysander when I was growing up," Thorin said, still observing his fingers, now laced tightly together. "I didn't think about why we were so immediately friendly with Azog's family until many years later. My father's business partners were also …" He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. "They worked closely with many people in Azog's family business. After a while, Azog's family was involved with my father's business directly. They spent many years involved in many projects together."

"What's this got to do with –" Frodo began, but Thorin lifted his head.

"Did you know I have a brother?" he asked.

"No! When can I meet him? Is he nice?" Frodo looked eager.

Thorin paled; Bilbo reached out and stroked his shoulder, gripping gently. 

"Ah, you can't. I'm sorry," Thorin said, then seeing the questions blooming on Frodo's face, he hurried to continue. "He's dead. He died when he was twenty two years old, just out of college." 

The kitchen was silent for a long minute, then Thorin heaved a deep breath. "He died in …" He started laughing: a broken, bitter sound. "He died in Albania. There was an earthquake and he was there trying to help. He was killed in a building collapse in an aftershock."

Bilbo stood and bent over Thorin, wrapping his arms around him. Thorin hugged him back, quite tightly, then shoved back a little. He smiled up at Bilbo and wiped his face. 

"I'm sorry," he said. "You'd think I'd be used to it." 

"I'm sorry, too," Frodo said. They turned to him; he was hunched over and his face was wet. 

"Oh Frodo," Thorin said. "It's … I'm sorry. It's okay." He held out an arm and Frodo threw himself forward into the hug. Bilbo wrapped his arms around both of them, pressed his face into Thorin's hair and just breathed in the smell of warm, slightly old sweat mixed with sun and the constant barely-noticeable tang of metal and stone that seemed to be Thorin's base scent. 

After a long time, Frodo's voice came from inside the hug. "But I don't understand something."

They broke apart. Thorin tipped Frodo's face up, carefully wiping his cheeks with his thumbs. "What don't you understand?"

"Okay, so your father was involved in shady stuff with Azog's family, but what does that have to do with – " He broke off. "With your brother."

"Ah. Right, I guess I skipped that part. Do you know what my father does?" 

Frodo shook his head. 

"He's an architect. He was founding partner in a large architecture firm – they design and build large commercial buildings and complexes." He grinned, but the side of his mouth twisted down. "Azog's family is in construction and contracting. At first, it seemed like a great partnership, we build things with their workers and materials."

Bilbo gasped, then stood and gathered up the plates. 

Frodo's eyes followed him, then returned to Thorin, who'd shaken his head slightly. "What?" he said.

"The reason my brother was there, was in Albania, was because a project my father's company was building collapsed in the first earthquake. My father's company – my _father_ – wanted to pull out of the country and the contract, but my brother thought that the locals deserved more. That they deserved our help." Thorin ran his fingers through his hair. "My father stopped working with Azog's family firm not long after Frerin died. I was there just long enough to learn about the separation, but I didn't learn why for years, long after my father retired and moved to Lysander full time."

Bilbo sat down and leaned against Thorin. "How bad were the materials?"

"OH!" Frodo's voice was shrill. "You're saying that the stuff Azog's company used to build things was crappy?"

Thorin tucked Bilbo closer to him and nodded. "Yes. In fact, the concrete used in the building that collapsed in the first earthquake was so bad that it couldn't legally be used here or in Europe at the time."

"And who built the one which collapsed with Frerin in it?" Bilbo asked, his voice very low.

Thorin huffed a short laugh. "Three guesses and the first two don't count."

***

That night they lay together in bed; Bilbo rested his head on Thorin's chest. His hand was on Thorin's stomach; it rose and fell with Thorin's gentle breaths. 

"How do you stay so fit?" Bilbo asked. His hand bounced with Thorin's quiet laughter.

"I haul around bags of dirt for my garden-happy boyfriend," he said.

Bilbo pinched the skin over his hip and Thorin chuckled. "I've got a gym room at my house," he said, "with weights and a treadmill."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that talking about Smaug would bring up your brother."

Thorin tipped his head and kissed the top of Bilbo's. "Don't worry about it. I think about him all the time, you know, but it's okay. He'd have liked you and he'd have loved Frodo." The room was silent except for the faint sound of a siren floating in from outside, distant in the city. "He'd be delighted that we're going after Smaug and Azog, so don't let his death stop you."

The next morning was the usual chaos. Thorin hugged Bilbo at the door, then stood waving as Bilbo drove away. In the car, Bilbo laughed at how ridiculously 'traditional' it was. His good humor lasted all the way to lunch, which he ate in the lab with Ori, who was bubbling over with joy about something incomprehensible having to do with yarn that Bofur had arranged for Ori to get.

"… so he found the goatherd and they don't have anyone who's taking their fiber. I mean, can you imagine? A whole herd of angora goats, without anyone to sell to. I'm going to ask for a spinning wheel and carder for my birthday. Nori can afford it."

Bilbo grinned over his bowl of pho. "I'm sure he can, and if not, Dori'll chip in, right?" At Ori's excited nod, Bilbo asked. "So, what do you get from angora goats? Angora?"

"Oh, no. That's a common misconception. Angora goats make _mohair_. Angora yarn comes from rabbits." Ori drained his coffee cup and looked sadly into it. "I'll go make another pot of coffee. What's on for this afternoon?"

Bilbo groaned. "I have a Search Committee meeting from 3 till 5, but I think I can go home after that." He twisted in his chair, stretching his back. "We spent most of the weekend filling in my garden. It's going to be really nice this year, I think. And it turns out that Thorin really likes succulents. They're going in the front yard, though. There's no room in the back." 

Ori raised his eyebrows. "Thorin's moved back in with you?"

Bilbo wrinkled his nose. "Not entirely, no. He did spend the weekend, which was nice, but I don't think he'll be moving in any time soon." He stood and rinsed off his utensils in the sink. "At the very least because he's got a gym at his house and there's no room at mine."

"Good," Ori said. "He shouldn't get to move in like he didn't abandon you just a few months ago."

Bilbo smiled down into his now-filled coffee cup. "Thank you, Ori."

The next day's classes were odd. The students in his morning class wouldn't settle down until he turned out the lights in the classroom to get their attention. They seemed oddly tittery and distracted during lecture, but eventually they quieted under the onslaught of chemical mechanisms. 

He spent the hour break between classes in his office, trying to keep up with the new departmental requirements for time-keeping in his lab. When he got to the lecture room for his second lecture, Fatima was waiting for him, a worried look on her face. There were a few other students in the room; he nodded at them, but they wouldn't meet his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, opening his laptop and plugging it into the classroom projection system.

"Have you seen the news today?" She cupped her phone against her chest.

"No. Has there been another shooting?" He stood and sighed, wishing people would stop being mean to each other.

"No, that's not … " She held out her phone so he could see the headline.

PROFESSOR BILBO BAGGINS IMPLICATED IN FRAUD AND CRIMINAL POLICE INVESTIGATIONS

Bilbo made it through the lecture, and then left school early. When he got home, Thorin was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there is a museum in Albania, of course. [National Historical Museum](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Historical_Museum_\(Albania\))
> 
> And there was an earthquake there in [1988](http://www.nytimes.com/1988/01/10/world/central-albania-earthquake-causes-damage-to-buildings.html).


	90. Ninety – The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finds that dealing with the trashier side of publicity isn't any fun.

Bilbo stood in his kitchen, leaning on his fists on the table, head sagging between his shoulders. 

"What the fuck, Thorin," he muttered. After a long moment, he stood up, rubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay, what now? I guess I should read the damned article."

On the way to his office, he noticed how quiet the house was. _Where's Frodo?_ Forgetting that he had been on his way to read the article Fatima had shown him, Bilbo checked Frodo's room, then pulled out his phone.

_From: Bilbo  
To: Frodo_

_Hey kid, why aren't you home? Don't you have homework to do?  
_

Without pausing, he opened another text window. 

_From: Bilbo  
To: Thorin_

_Just couldn't wait, could you?  
_

He dropped his phone in his breast pocket, then remembered what he'd started out to do. When he sat down at his office computer, he stared blankly at the picture in the background of his password screen. Just below the blinking cursor in the password box was the time.

2:40 pm Tuesday, April 28, 2015

He looked at it, then smacked himself in the forehead. _Shit, Frodo's still in school. I'm a mess._ He took a deep breath.

_From: Bilbo  
To: Frodo_

_Sorry, kid, you're in class. Of course. See you at home.  
_

A few clicks brought up the article. _At least it's not on Fox News, or a local paper, I guess._

Bilbo took a deep breath and started reading.

_PROFESSOR BILBO BAGGINS IMPLICATED IN FRAUD AND CRIMINAL POLICE INVESTIGATIONS_

_The family of Azog Gogol, the well-known celebrity blogger and commentator, has recently been the victim of a bizarre and unfounded legal attack by the sometime boyfriend of the ageing rock and roll star singer of_ Erebor _, Thorin Durin._

_At the beginning of this month, Mr Gogol's son, Bolg Gogol, witnessed a young man fall out of a boat into the cold, swirling waters of the Seneca River. Before the young Mr Gogol had a chance to offer any assistance, Mr Durin, Mr Baggins, and their companions chased after Gogol. He was subjected to vicious slurs and was only able to remove himself from the situation with strategic and desperate effort._

_Later, Mr Bilbo Baggins, the uncle of the young man who Mr Gogol had attempted to rescue, rewarded him for his Good Samaritanism by bringing legal suit against him. Mr Baggins has accused Mr Gogol of firing a gun at his nephew and of trying to drown him._

_These egregious attacks on Mr Gogol – and through him, the entire Gogol family – are clearly the result of Mr Baggins' close association with Mr Durin. Mr Durin has many times been the focus of Azog Gogol's attention as a celebrity blogger, and this attack on Mr Gogol's family can only be interpreted as an attempt on Mr Durin's part to use Mr Baggins as a proxy in his ongoing plans to retaliate for that attention.  
_

Bilbo blinked several times, then shook his head. There was a steady pounding somewhere behind and between his ears and his eyes stung slightly. 

"What now?" he muttered. "First of all, whoever you are, you can't call me by my title and then forget that I've a doctorate. _Doctor_ Bilbo Baggins, _please_. And secondly, I wasn't there when Frodo was shot."

His phone pinged.

_From: Frodo  
To: Bilbo_

_What's up? I still have gym class before I get home. What's for dinner? Is Thorin cooking?_

Bilbo sighed. 

_From: Bilbo  
To: Frodo_

_Sorry, kid, I just saw something online and forgot the time. I don't think_ Bilbo paused and gritted his teeth. _Thorin will be cooking._

Bilbo cradled his phone in his hand, then sighed and dropped it next to his computer. Feeling light-headed, he went to the kitchen and started the kettle. 

"Tea will help," he said out loud. A few minutes later, he had a large steaming mug of chamomile lemon tea, which he brought to the living room. Thorin hadn't cleared out everything of his this time; he'd left behind a jacket and Bilbo saw one of his books on the couch. Bilbo collapsed into his chair and let his head fall backward.

The tea mug warmed his lap and he closed his eyes, concentrating on breathing slowly and deeply. After a few minutes, he felt the mug tipping, so he set it on the table, then leaned back again. "I'll just close my eyes for a minute," he said.

When he woke up, his tea was cold and there were voices in the kitchen. Yawning, he stretched his back, collected his cold tea, and wandered into the kitchen to see what Frodo and Sam were talking about.

Frodo was sitting at the kitchen table, his math homework spread out in front of him. He'd taken his arm out of the sling and was rubbing his shoulder. "Stop that," Bilbo said, at the same time as Thorin did. 

Thorin stood at the stove, wearing the floral apron Bella had left one year after they'd come down and made Thanksgiving dinner at Bilbo's house. He turned at Bilbo's voice and smiled. "Hey, sleepy head," he said, putting a wooden spoon down on the counter and stepping towards Bilbo. "You were sleeping so hard we didn't want to wake you up. Did you come home sick?" He pulled Bilbo in for a hug, pressing his lips to Bilbo's forehead.

"What are you doing here?" Bilbo asked, stiff in Thorin's embrace. "Did you come back for your things?"

Thorin looked confused. "My things? No, I brought – wait." He turned, tugging Bilbo's tea mug from his unresisting fingers. "Frodo, can you keep an eye on the sauce?" Before Frodo had a chance to respond, Thorin left the mug on the counter and turned Bilbo around by the shoulder. "Come here," he said, bringing Bilbo back to the living room.

"Now," he said, sitting down on the couch and drawing Bilbo down with him. "You saw the article." He looked grave, his eyes dark blue.

"I did," Bilbo said. "Well, one of my students showed me the headline before my last class. I came home after and you were gone." He crossed his arms. "And you didn't respond when I texted you."

Thorin's brows tugged together. "I did. Your text didn't make any sense, though."

"You were clearly – " Bilbo started, but Thorin's expression of mingled shame and frustration stopped him. He sat silent for a second. "Where were you?" 

"My manager emailed me about the article – it's nothing to worry about, actually. No one who reads that particular piece of trash would believe anything they say, so it's less of a problem than it looks." Thorin's hands were running up and down Bilbo's arms and he was surprised at how warm Thorin's hands felt. 

"How can you say it's nothing to worry about?" Bilbo laced his fingers together.

Thorin chuckled. "Have you ever heard of that news outlet before?" At Bilbo's shaken head, Thorin sighed. "I thought not. They're muckrakers of the third order. They don't even get the first-rate garbage, which is interesting, because it means that Azog couldn't get the better places to take his story." Thorin looked thoughtful, then shot a glance at Bilbo and continued. "Anyway, I read it and realized that you might be upset, so I went home. I wanted to get some of my things – if I'm going to be staying here to help, I'll need my guitars and my small synthesizer and some more clothes."

Bilbo blinked, feeling like he'd been spun around quickly then stopped while the world continued to spin gently around him. "Wait. What do you mean, 'staying here to help'?"

There was a shrill sound from the rest of the house and Bilbo jumped as he recognized his ring tone. Thorin shrugged. "Your phone has been ringing for a while now. It's probably a good idea to turn the sound off for the next few days. This will blow over by then." He reached out and wrapped his hands around Bilbo's. "I think you should call Nori to help you. He's your publicist as well as editor, right?"

"Hey Thorin," Frodo called, "your sauce is boiling. I don't know what you want to do next."

Thorin brought Bilbo's hands up and kissed his fingers. "I wasn't kidding. I won't leave again." He stroked Bilbo's cheek. "I'm sorry you thought I had. I'd expected to be back before you came home from work." 

"Thorin!" Frodo sounded anxious and Thorin smiled. 

"I'm going to go save the Dijon sauce. Is there anything you need to do tonight, or are you caught up?"

Bilbo rubbed his forehead. "I think I shouldn't be doing anything like work tonight. I'll go get my phone and see who's been calling."

There were eight calls from numbers he didn't recognize – every single one had left a voicemail. His mother had called once, Gandalf had called once, and as he tried to decide who to call back first, the phone rang.

"Nori," Bilbo said. 

"What the hell?" Nori responded, his voice so dry that Bilbo laughed. "You never told me you were capable of being in two places at once. How'd you manage it?"

Bilbo sank down into his office chair and groaned. "None of that is true," he said.

"Well of course not," Nori snapped. "What I want to know is if Azog is talking to this hack directly or if he's got his flunkies doing it. I assume you've been ignoring anyone besides me who calls you. And have you heard from Thorin about this?"

Bilbo looked toward the kitchen a little guiltily. "He's, ah, cooking dinner right now."

There was a heartbeat of silence, then Nori said in silky tones, "Oh _is_ he?"

Bilbo snorted. "Yes. It's something with a mustard sauce, I've no idea what." He paused. "And I haven't even been near my phone until just now when you called. There are a bunch of calls from people I don't know and I have to call my mother and my boss."

"Ah, yes, well, I can help you with everyone but your family and employer." Nori sounded businesslike. "I think we should get you a different phone, for a short time at least, and then I'll swing by and pick up the current one. I'm not keeping it – don't worry." 

"Can't I just turn the ringer off?" 

"Easier to have me just get a staff member to deal with the calls as they come in. They'll taper off quickly, and we can get a rebuttal into the news quickly. This isn't a very reputable source, so maybe it would be better to just write and have published some sort of fluff piece about what happened."

Bilbo's headache throbbed. "I – can you come by tonight? How would I even get another phone?"

"Don't worry about that part," Nori said, and now his voice sounded kind. "I'll get that all done for you. I'll be at your house in about an hour and a half, will that do?"

After they hung up, Bilbo called Gandalf. He seemed amused, and offered to have someone cover Bilbo's classes for the rest of the week.

"No, thanks," Bilbo said, imagining the wild rumors which would start if he weren't there after something like this. "I'll be fine, I'm sure. If not, I'll just have Beorn walk me between classes."

Gandalf's laugh was warm. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, "at the Requisition meeting." He laughed again at Bilbo's groan.

Finally, Bilbo called home. 

"It's been hours," Bella said. "We were about to come down there."

Bilbo shook his head. "How did you even hear about this?"

"How do you think? I got a phone call this morning from Lobelia." Bella sounded tart.

"Of course." Bilbo tried digging his fingers into the back of his neck to see if that would help make the headache go away. It didn't. "I assume she was delighted to see the article. I didn't know she read such trash."

"That's exactly what I said," Bella said sharply. "If she wishes to waste her time on poorly written drivel, that's her lookout, but she can think twice if she thinks _I'm_ interested in it at all." She paused and Bilbo could hear his father's voice in the background. "Your father asks if you've heard from Thorin about it."

Bilbo covered his eyes with his free hand. "He's here. He's making dinner for us. He, ah, he might be staying here for a few days."

There was silence on the phone; Bilbo could hear Frodo and Thorin's voices faintly down the hall. Finally, Bella said, "Well, at least he's not run off again."

"He and I have talked about that, mom. I think it's going to be okay."

"I hope so." She sounded unconvinced. "What's he making for dinner?"

Bilbo smiled. "I don't know. Something with a mustard sauce. Should I let you know, later?" He sat up a little straighter. "Oh, and I talked to Nori. He's going to have someone in his office deal with my phone – I'm getting a lot of calls from strangers. I'll call you from the new phone. I mean –" He broke off and yawned widely. "I'm really tired. Nori is going to give me a temporary phone to use until this stops being such a big deal. He's coming over this evening to bring me the new phone and take my phone, so I'll call you from that one so you'll have that number, okay?"

"That sounds like a good idea," she said. "Tell that rascal I say hello."

Dinner was roast chicken with Dijon sauce, wilted spinach with slivered almonds and thin slices of bacon, a full green salad, and small boiled potatoes with butter and fresh rosemary. Bilbo's stomach growled so loudly when he sat down to eat that everyone laughed.

After he'd eaten some of the chicken, Bilbo felt his headache dissipating. _Oh crap. I haven't eaten since breakfast._ "This is lovely," he said.

Thorin's cheeks pinked and he smiled. "Thank you." 

Just as they finished clearing the plates after dinner, the doorbell rang. When Bilbo opened the door, Nori grinned at him. 

"Come in," Bilbo said, moving out of the way. As Nori stepped through the door, someone else loomed in from the darkness of the walkway.

"It's clear that you need more help than you're willing to ask for," Dain said.


	91. Ninety One – Well, now what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a council of war, they chatter a lot.

After a little bit of sorting out, Bilbo brought a pot of tea and one of coffee into the living room. Thorin trailed behind him, carrying a large tray; there were three kinds of cookies, as well as half a pie. 

Dain looked up from his phone and chuckled. "Nice to see you're settling in well, cousin," he said, reaching for a mug and filling it with coffee. "I assume you didn't do the baking."

Thorin looked slightly annoyed. "Thank you, no. Bilbo makes very good cookies."

"I use them to bribe my staff," Nori said, over his own plate, which he'd filled with a slice of pie and a stack of gingersnaps. He poured a cup of tea and breathed in the steam. "Ah, you made pu-erh, excellent. I love the taste of earthy wet dog." He took a large swig and immediately refilled his cup. 

Bilbo poured himself a cup of tea and sat down on the couch. Thorin sat next to him and handed him three gingersnaps. 

Dain leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "Did he ever tell you about the time he set the oven on fire?"

"What?" Frodo looked delighted.

Thorin's look of annoyance deepened. "We're not here to drag up old family history, _cousin_ ," he said. "We're here because we have to protect Bilbo. And Frodo."

Dain grinned at Bilbo and mouthed, "I'll tell you later." 

Bilbo snorted into his tea. _Family. Can't kill them, and life wouldn't be half as nice without them._

There was a short silence, then Nori set down his empty tea cup. "Well, why don't we start at the beginning." He and Dain both pulled out notepads and Bilbo watched as they eyed each other. He could see the speculative look on Nori's face as Dain uncapped what was clearly a fountain pen. 

"Nice pen," Nori said. Dain cocked an eyebrow at him and smiled, all teeth. 

"If we could return to the point," Bilbo said, sighing. 

Nori swiveled to look at him. "Sure. Good idea. So, Azog has decided to make things personal?"

"Well," Thorin said, his voice a bit dry, "we _have_ told the police that his son is the one who shot Frodo."

"Wait, that part's true?" Nori sat up in his chair, looking back and forth between Thorin, Bilbo, and Frodo.

"Yes," Bilbo said. "How much have I told you?"

"Apparently not enough," Nori breathed. Next to him, Dain grinned.

Bilbo sighed again, and started explaining. Nori had him stop several times so he could take notes. Halfway through the story, which had been extended by Thorin and Frodo interjecting and elaborating, Bilbo's phone shrilled again. 

"Right," Nori said. "Hand me that. I've got you the replacement – you prefer Android, right?" He rummaged around in the small bag he'd brought and produced a large silver-tone phone. "I've added it to our company plan under the name Bandobras Took, so be careful who you call with it." 

At the name, Dain looked suddenly enlightened. "Oh, that explains it," he said. When he saw everyone's curious gaze, he shrugged. "I didn't know how you knew Nori, here. He said – on the doorstep – that he was your publicist, which I thought was a bit odd for a professor, but if you're really Bandobras Took…"

Bilbo groaned. "Yes, I am. The next one's coming out, when, Nori?"

"Oh, I've pre-ordered it," Dain said, comfortably. "I just like it when I have a clear understanding of how things go together." 

Bilbo handed his phone to Nori, who turned it off in the middle of another phone call. "You can keep going," he said. While Bilbo continued, Nori peeled the back of the phone off and pulled out Bilbo's SD card, handing it to him. "Here," he interrupted. "You'll want your pictures and stuff."

Finally, Bilbo finished, and Nori sat looking at his notes. "Okay," he said, after a quiet moment. "So, there are a couple of things here. First, there's the case against Azog and Bolg, which we have to address because he's making bizarre and easily disproved public statements. Second, there's the incomprehensible threat Smaug made about Bilbo's publishing contract. Which," he glanced up at Bilbo, "is entirely ridiculous, by the way."

Bilbo shrugged. "I was pretty sure, but it's nice to hear that directly."

Dain leaned forward. "I'm interested in the police case. This isn't my specialty, but I've been doing a bunch of reading – we were going to have a meeting last week, I think, but never managed it." Dain waved off Bilbo's twitch. "We're both busy and it fell by the wayside. However, I remember that this Officer Reid wanted to have a phone interview with Frodo. I think we should schedule that, and see what she thinks is going on."

"Good idea," Thorin rumbled, one hand warm on Bilbo's back. 

Dain checked his own notes. "This is Bergil, from back in Lysander, right? Has her dad made any progress with the old case, that stuff about the Palantir and the Förvaltare boys?"

Thorin's fingers folded carefully around Bilbo's shoulder. "I didn't ask. Faramir's still with the management firm, though, and Boromir's keeping things in line."

"Denethor's still being a twit, then?" Dain asked, then nodded at whatever he saw on Thorin's face. "Well, I'll ask Bergil about it when I talk to her about our case."

Nori flicked his eyes between them, then shrugged. "So, I can think of a couple things to do about Azog, but let's deal with the easier stuff first. I assume we don't want Smaug to have the Arkenstone back?"

"It's not his," Thorin said firmly. 

"There's a museum in Albania," Frodo said. "We looked it up. It could go there."

Nori smiled at him. "That sounds reasonable."

"We're not actually sure the stone is from Albania," Bilbo said, "and us just giving it to the museum doesn't deal with the fact that Smaug will continue to be a jerk about this. I was thinking that if he could be made to say that archeological treasures should be given back to the country of origin…" 

Dain brightened. "Yes, then he couldn't make a fuss when the damned thing goes to the Albanian State Museum, or whatever it's called." 

Nori tapped his lips with his pen. "What if he were the one to give it to the museum?"

"That would be a nice touch, but how would you convince him to do that?" Thorin sounded unconvinced. 

"Don't know yet. Don't have to know yet," Nori said. "How big is it?"

Bilbo cupped his hands together, outlining in the air a shape roughly the size of a lemon. "About this big?" He twisted to look at Thorin. "I only saw it the once, at your father's house."

Dain's voice was sharp. "Where is it now? You haven't left it there, have you?"

Thorin was silent for a heartbeat, his face directed away and towards the living room door. Bilbo shifted on the couch so he could look directly into Thorin's face. 

"Thorin?" he asked.

"It's here," Thorin said. "I've been keeping it with me." At the startled sounds in the room, he hunched his shoulders. "I didn't know where else to put it, and it just didn't seem … safe anywhere. So, I, uh. It's in my harp case."

"You know," Frodo said, rubbing his shoulder. "I never did see it. Is it pretty?"

Thorin stared at him, then looked around at everyone else in the room. "I'll get it, shall I?" He stood and left the room.

Nori leaned forward and said, in a harsh whisper, "He's moved back in? What about him leaving you?"

Dain propped one of his ankles on his other knee and nodded. "I confess I'm a bit surprised, myself."

"He hasn't moved back in, not entirely. And there isn't a 'back' about it. He's – " 

"Here it is," Thorin said, in the doorway. His expression was neutral and Bilbo sighed. 

As Thorin unwrapped the soft dark cloth he was carrying, Bilbo watched the expressions of the others. The stone still seemed to be glowing on its own, and Bilbo saw, for a second, a flash of acquisitive hunger on Nori's face. Frodo looked pale and washed out in the stone's odd reflected light. Dain, however, simply looked at it and nodded. 

"I can see why Azog thought that stealing that would upset your grandfather. It's exactly what the old man loved to have." Dain's voice was calm. "Do you have a safe? If not, I've got one and no one would expect me to have anything of yours."

Thorin's fingers closed around the Arkenstone and Bilbo saw his face twist for a second, but then he sighed deeply and his shoulders relaxed. "You know," he said, sounding unexpectedly happy, "that's a great idea." He re-wrapped the stone up and handed it to Dain. "I think it's time for more coffee and tea. I'll go get the kettle started." He gathered up the supplies and left the room again. 

Dain dropped the Arkenstone in the inside pocket of his jacket. "So, he hasn't moved back in but his harp case is here." He sounded amused.

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "He brought some things over today – he's staying while we deal with this." Bilbo waved his hand at his phone, in Nori's hand. "But he's not moving in. Not least because I don't have room for an indoor gym."

"Now that that's cleared up," Nori said, "I think I know how we can get Smaug to say that he'll give the stone to the Albanian museum. He's working with me on publicity for one of his books which deals with things which are now archeologically important. We could schedule a couple of interviews – I'm thinking the New Yorker or something like that. Anyway, he loves to be 'profound', so we could have him discuss the restoration of national treasures."

"Like the Elgin Marbles," chirped Frodo. "Did you know that – " 

"Yes, kid," Nori said. "But the British were well known thieves. Ask any of them." 

"It's common knowledge," Thorin said, coming back in with fresh drinks, "that the English sent the Scots out to point their thieving somewhere other than England." He poured Bilbo more tea and sat down. "Something to do with border reivers, my father's said." 

"As if he'd know, the soft southern shite," Dain muttered from behind his own refreshed cup.

"He's from New York, that's not in the south," Frodo said, his face a study in confusion.

Dain chuckled. "His grandfather," he pointed at Thorin, "came from up near the border with Scotland, but his father stayed down south when he went to school." He grinned. "So he's a soft southerner, regardless of where he was born. Just because he moved to _New_ England doesn't change the shape of it." 

Bilbo looked over his shoulder at Thorin, who was rolling his eyes. 

"Your family moved here before mine did, you maniac," Thorin said. "Moving back to the important things, how will we get Smaug to give the stone to the museum?"

"Well, once he's said that lost archeological stuff goes back to the country of origin, he can't really claim that he should have the stupid thing all to himself, now can he?" Nori looked pleased.

"No, I got that," Thorin said. "But how are we going to tell him we've got the stone?"

Dain crossed his arms. "He … I thought he knew you have it."

"I didn't have it," Thorin said. "I told him that every time he asked me about it. He's been asking me for it for years."

Nori sat forward. "Why's he asking you about it?"

"Because he knows my grandfather had it?" 

Frodo sat up. "Wait, no, I get it. How'd he know your grand-dad had it? And why's he asking you instead of your dad? I mean, he's more likely to have it, right? You're just a kid."

Bilbo snorted, but Thorin looked impressed. "I hadn't thought about that. I don't know how he found out that my grandfather had it."

"We could just ask him," Nori said. "It's not as if he hasn't been perfectly happy to rant about how he's been denied his birthright."

"Won't that make him suspicious?" Dain asked.

Nori and Bilbo caught each other's eyes and started laughing. "Oh goodness no," Bilbo said. "He's the most self-involved person I've ever met. We were at dinner at UR and all he could talk about was himself. Did you know," he turned and looked at Thorin, who suddenly looked like a storm cloud, "he actually tried to tell Bombur how to prepare his food. I didn't think there was anyone rude enough to tell a chef – in his own restaurant – how to make a dish."

"You took Smaug to UR?" Thorin's voice was tight.

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "We met there for dinner at his recommendation. I think he thought I'd be impressed. He had no idea I'd been there already, and with much more pleasant company." Bilbo remembered the conversations he'd had that evening and cocked his head, thinking. "Although now that I think about it, the Arkenstone came up then – that's the first I ever heard of it. He mentioned it, and some two-handled gold cup, as the 'long-lost treasures –'"

" – of his House, yes, he's fond of that phrase," Nori said. 

Bilbo nodded. "And later, Bombur seemed to know about the Arkenstone, so it's not as secret as we think."

"Oh, the family all knows about it," Thorin said, nodding towards Dain. "Even he'd heard of it. I'd like to know how outsiders learned about it."

"Could Azog have told someone?" Frodo asked.

"I thought we thought he didn't know what it was," Nori said.

"But if he was friends with Thorin when they were teenagers – which is just weird and creepy, you're old, you weren't ever teenagers. Anyway, if they were friends then, maybe someone in the family told him and then he told someone else?" Frodo shrugged. 

"I'm not sure that old Thror would have told Azog," Dain said thoughtfully. "He never liked the little shit."

Bilbo felt Thorin flinch slightly and he leaned back against Thorin's shoulder. "But if everyone knew what it was called, then someone else in the family could have mentioned it by name to Azog, right?" Bilbo said.

"I wonder when Azog made the connection between the thing he'd stolen all those years ago and Smaug's stupid faked royal descent." Nori looked thoughtful.

"When did he hide the stuff in the pier?" Frodo asked. When everyone looked at him, he pulled back a bit in his chair. "What? I mean, that's where the Arkenstone was hidden, right? So if we know when he put it there, maybe we could figure out when he learned what it is?"


	92. Ninety Two – Keeping In Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to unwind - the more information everyone has, the better, right?

Bilbo stood up. "You know what? Those are all excellent questions, but it's very late and it's time for bed. I'm sorry to cut this short – Dain, don't let me forget about setting up the appointment with Bergil – but I can tell I'm not thinking clearly." 

"Aw, but Uncle Bilbo – " Frodo started, then stopped at Bilbo's raised hand. 

"Stop, kid. This won't be solved tonight." 

At the door, Bilbo rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Sorry," he muttered. "Dain, I'll call Bergil."

"Don't bother," Dain said, his teeth flashing in the light from inside the house. "I'm sure she'll be delighted to hear from me. It's always good to catch up with old friends."

Nori patted Bilbo on the shoulder. "I'll email when I've got a clearer idea of the timing for getting Smaug to give those interviews. And then we'll need to figure out how to get him the stone so he can return it."

"I'll keep it safe," Dain said. "I expect the appointment will be at the end of this week. I'll want time to go over the questions she wants to ask. I'll let you know."

He and Nori walked down the stone path together. Bilbo thought he saw someone moving out on the street; he leaned forward and, as he watched, a young man in a dark hoodie walked up the street toward the hills. 

Back inside, Thorin had cleared away the dishes in the living room. Bilbo turned lights off on his way through the house, ending up in his bedroom, where Thorin sat propped up against the headboard, his hair loose over his shoulders. He was reading a book, but lowered it when Bilbo came in.

"That went better than I expected," he said. 

Bilbo nodded, then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he returned, Thorin was lying down, the covers on Bilbo's side attractively tossed open. Bilbo crawled in, relaxing into the warmth and strength of Thorin's arms. "I'll be at school all day tomorrow. There's a meeting in the afternoon, and I'm going to have to talk to Gandalf about all of this shit as well."

"Do you think it would help if I were there?" Thorin's voice was soft.

"No, but thanks. It'll be okay."

The next morning, Bilbo found he had to be sharp with his first class about paying attention to their own work rather than any gossip they thought was important. "If you ignore your solutions while they're boiling and they boil over, destroying the heating unit or anything else, not only will you have ruined this week's experiment, but you'll be billed by the college for anything you've broken." One of the girls raised her hand, and Bilbo glared at her. "Yes, Jeanine, you'll be billed for the heating unit as well. Pay attention to what you're doing."

The afternoon lab class wasn't as difficult – Bilbo assumed that students from the morning class had warned everyone else – but the afternoon lecture class needed a reminder about focus as well.

After that class, he dropped his bag off in his office and walked to Gandalf's office. Balin was sitting in one of the chairs across from Gandalf; they looked up when Bilbo entered the room.

"My dear young man," Gandalf said genially, "I understand you have had an exciting few days."

Bilbo groaned and dropped into the second visitor's chair. "I wasn't there – none of that article is the truth. Well, except that Bolg Gogol was there."

"Of course it's not the truth – you were here for that entire week. I assume you haven't been asked about your whereabouts, correct?" Gandalf folded his fingers together.

"I was here," Bilbo said. "And it doesn't matter anyway, since I'm not the one bringing suit. It's a criminal case, so it's the state, regardless of what Azog's said."

"Balin tells me that this is simply part of an ongoing feud between this Azog and your young man, Mr Durin." 

Bilbo glanced at Balin, who looked completely bland. "Ah, yes, something like that. I don't know that the initial event – I mean, Frodo getting shot – is part of the feud, but trying to blame things on me certainly is."

Balin leaned forward. "Have you spoken to a lawyer about this? This is libel."

"I've talked to Dain Jarnfotor," Bilbo said, and Balin brightened. 

"Oh, cousin Dain. That'll be fine, then. He's an excellent lawyer." Balin stood up. "If that's all, Gandalf, then I'll see you in a week. I have enjoyed our conversations." He slipped past Bilbo and out the door, closing it gently behind himself. 

"Well," Gandalf said, looking suddenly arch. "This isn't at all what I was expecting when you got that extravagant bouquet at Valentine's Day."

"What?" Bilbo felt a headache coming on.

"That wasn't from Azog Gogol?" Gandalf looked a little disappointed.

Bilbo pressed his fingers into his eyes. "We don't think so. The vase was quite expensive, as you noticed. It's not the right sort of thing for Azog to have sent."

"Do you have any idea who could have sent it, or is it still a mystery?"

Bilbo sighed. "I've got an idea, but I'm honestly not sure. And it doesn't relate to this issue, so it's not really something we need to discuss. I think I've got everything worked out in my classes, and my publicist says this will blow over quickly, so … is there anything else?"

Gandalf shook his head, smiling slightly. "Just that you're still expected at the Requisition meeting later this afternoon."

"What fun," Bilbo said.

Bilbo spent the time between his meeting with Gandalf and the Requisition meeting holed up in his office, working on grading. It took an hour to finish the latest lab test for his Inorganic Chemistry class; he sighed as he set the stack aside. _Only a million more grades to give._

Bilbo came home to a house filled with delicious scents and some unfamiliar sounds. The low hum of music from Frodo's room was expected, but there were odd sounds coming from the back bedroom. He moved quietly down the hall to listen, then smiled. There were some chords, then Thorin muttered something, then another set of chords, then more muttering. 

Remembering how his mother got when interrupted while painting, Bilbo made himself a cup of tea and sat in the kitchen, his notes on the table next to himself while he worked on writing the next midterm.

"You're home!" Thorin stood in the doorway. "I didn't hear you – why didn't you come get me?"

Bilbo leaned back and stretched. "You were working, so I figured I shouldn't interrupt. What smells so good?"

Thorin checked the oven. "I stuck several racks of ribs in there a few hours ago. They're just about ready."

Bilbo gathered his things. "That sounds delicious." He paused on his way to his office to put his work away. "Have you heard from Dain?"

"Not yet," Thorin said. 

Bilbo and Thorin ate dinner quietly while Frodo enthused about something which had happened in his math class. At the end of the meal, over cupcakes and ice cream, Frodo leaned forward.

"So I was thinking," he said. "We need to know what Smaug thinks, right, and what he knows? So, where does he live? Because we could, like, sneak in and try to find out what he's really up to."

Bilbo felt his spine straighten. "What do you mean 'we', and why on earth do you think that's anything like a good idea?"

Across the table, Thorin's face was dead white. "Even if we had any idea where Smaug lives, there's no way you're sneaking into anywhere at all." His voice was bleak.

"But," Frodo said, looking back and forth between the two adults. "It worked out really well, last time. We found the Arkenstone and all those papers…"

Bilbo stood up; the feet of his chair scraped against the floor. "We're not having this discussion, Frodo. No one is sneaking into anywhere." He took a deep breath and gathered up the plates. "I think it's time you went to do your homework. I know you'll have math work."

Frodo sulked his way out of the kitchen and Bilbo sank back into his seat. "Sometimes, I have no idea how the hell kids think," he said.

Thorin looked ill. "Did he just _forget_ that he got shot?"

"I don't know, Thorin," Bilbo said. "I can't figure him out. That would make more sense if it had come from Pippin." He massaged the back of his neck. "I've got an idea. Let's get something to drink, then go watch something mindless on Netflix."

Thorin rubbed his eyes. "That sounds great."

They fell asleep on the couch before the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park escaped. 

The next morning, Thorin said, "I'm going to be up in Alameda today. Do you want anything from the nursery?"

Bilbo finished his cup of coffee and started pouring more into his travel mug. "I'm not sure. I think we've got enough tomatoes, but if you see anything really exciting, I'll pay you back."

Thorin waved a hand. "Don't bother. I'll be eating most of them anyway, so it's only fair I get a couple."

That evening, after Frodo was buried in English homework for the evening, Thorin sat on the couch next to Bilbo in the living room. "So, I was in Alameda to talk to someone."

Bilbo closed the book he'd been reading and raised his eyebrows. "Okay?"

"I called your Elrond guy and talked to him for a while, and he recommended this other guy. He said that this guy hasn't done psychology in a while, but that it sounded like it would be a good match, so I went to see him."

"That's great, right? How was it?" Bilbo ran his hand up Thorin's forearm and let it rest in the crook of his elbow, his thumb stroking the soft skin on the inside of his arm.

"It wasn't bad," Thorin said. "He seems nice enough. He's got really long hair, which wasn't what I was expecting." Thorin put his hand over Bilbo's and squeezed slightly. "I'll be going to see him once a week, I guess."

Bilbo smiled and hugged Thorin, which immediately turned into Thorin falling forward so that he was sprawled on top of Bilbo. 

"What's his name?" Bilbo asked. 

"Glorfindel Gondolin," Thorin said.

Dain made the appointment with Bergil for Friday morning, so Bilbo emailed Bard and arranged for Frodo to have the day out of school. Given the drive to Dain's office and back, and the time spent on the phone with Bergil, Bilbo figured that there wasn't any point in Frodo getting back to school just in time for the last class.

They drove through the thin late-morning traffic. The marine layer of fog reached fingers over the hills of Marin as they crossed the bridge toward San Rafael. Just after the bridge, Bilbo pulled over into a small shopping area and parked in front of a Starbucks.

"What's up, kid?" He turned in his seat to look at Frodo. "You've been unusually quiet."

Frodo crossed his arms, wincing slightly. "I talked to Merry and Pippin about my idea and they got upset."

Bilbo sat quietly, watching the light reflect off the windows of the coffee shop. "I can see their point, honestly. None of us wants to see you hurt again, especially in such a stupid way."

Frodo looked truculent for a moment, then he dropped his head. "I'm sorry."

"For what? For wanting to help?" 

"For getting shot. For making all of this harder." Frodo's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Oh Frodo," Bilbo said, and gathered him up in a hug. "You've nothing to be sorry about. You didn't get shot on purpose – that's ridiculous. And you don't make anything harder. You're great." He ran a hand over Frodo's hair. "You're perfect. I love you."

After a few minutes, Frodo wiggled and Bilbo released him. "So," Bilbo said, "do you think we should call Dain to see if he wants coffee?"

Frodo wrinkled his nose. "He probably drinks it black or something gross like that."

When they called, Dain was delighted and requested a venti caramel hazelnut latte with five shots of espresso. "And see if they can put sprinkles on top, I don't care what kind. Sprinkles are the best."

Before they called the Syracuse Police Department, Dain went over the list of questions Bergil would ask and the types of answers that were safe to give. 

"We don't want to bring up the fact that you were the one who discovered the papers for the other case she's working on," Dain said, "and we should probably leave out the Arkenstone as well."

"Well, what should we say about why we were there, then?" Frodo looked confused. 

"The story is that you kids were geocaching." 

Frodo nodded. "Geocaching in the middle of a river? Really? She believed that?"

Dain smiled. "Doesn't matter, exactly. You were out on the river, doing perfectly legal things, and someone shot you."

Bilbo leaned forward. "But that makes this look like a completely motiveless shooting."

Dain nodded. "I know, and that's a bit problematic, but right now, that's what we're going with. We might have to be more forthcoming later, but at this point, this is more to confirm stuff she already knows rather than to find out anything new." He tapped his papers into order. "Honestly, there isn't much you can tell her – you didn't see anything and you're the victim. There's no connection between you and the alleged shooter, so … well." Dain shrugged. "So this is just to cover all the bases. Also, this is going to be on speakerphone, so if she asks anything complicated, I'll handle it."

"Okay," Frodo said. "When do we start?"

"We'll be calling at 10:30," Dain said. "That's after their lunch, so they'll be nice and relaxed. And then when we're done, we can go out for lunch and relax."

"Sounds like a good plan," Bilbo said. 

Dain checked his watch and started dialing.


	93. Ninety Three  –  Swings and Roundabouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things seem to be going pretty well, but that might not be the whole story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I could try to get pictures of some of the places I talk about, if you guys want, and post them to [Stasia on Tumblr](http://stasiaonline.tumblr.com) Let me know! This is just the California stuff - I can't get to Lysander at all. Oh, and I can't get interior shots of Bilbo or Thorin's houses; the houses exist, but I don't own them. This fanfic gig doesn't pay in money.
> 
> AND, my partner found [Thrain's House](http://www.zillow.com/homes/for_sale/Baldwinsville-NY/31739680_zpid/44014_rid/globalrelevanceex_sort/43.178612,-76.290994,43.135034,-76.364808_rect/13_zm/). If you click through the pictures, you'll find an aerial shot of _exactly_ where the shooting happened! I was surprised and pleased to see it!

The conversation with Bergil turned out to be anticlimactic. After getting Frodo to identify himself on the recording, she asked him to tell her what he remembered from the event. Given that he didn't actually remember much – and had seen less – the interview was short. 

"So," Frodo said, his posture much more relaxed than it had been when Bergil had picked up the phone, "I really don't know any more than that. I mean, I know what happened, but Pip – my friends told me."

"Thank you, Mr Baggins, you've done a very good job. Now, I'm sure that your uncle is somewhere nearby. May I speak to him?" Her voice was friendly but brisk.

Bilbo cleared his throat. "I'm right here," he said, unconsciously waving at the phone speaker in the center of the table. 

"Ah, Professor Baggins. May I speak to you privately?" 

Bilbo glanced at Dain, who nodded. "Alright, but give us a minute to clear the room."

Frodo and Dain stood up and walked to the door, which Dain held open. He waved Frodo through, then gestured at someone outside the small conference room they were using. After a hushed conversation, Frodo went off with a young secretary and Dain slid silently back into his seat.

"Okay," Bilbo said, keeping his voice level while quirking his eyebrows at Dain. "It's just me."

"Excellent," Bergil said. "Tell Dain that I know he's still there, the old coot, which is good, because it'll save us time and, well, playing telephone." Bilbo could hear the smile in her voice, and it was echoed by the small one on Dain's face. "There's been some progress made on this end. We've got film from the security cameras of a few of the local businesses and it looks like we can positively place Bolg Gogol in the area at the time of the shooting."

"Which businesses?" Dain was tapping on his keyboard.

"The Dollar Tree and the Key Bank," she responded. Bilbo heard papers shuffling on her end of the call. "The camera from the Key Bank shows him pulling into the Dollar Tree lot and getting something from the trunk of his car. He can clearly be seen from that camera and from the ones on the front of the Dollar Tree walking across the lot towards the river."

Bilbo was about to interrupt when Dain spun his laptop around and revealed the Google map of the area. He silently pointed a blunt fingertip at the Dollar Tree and Bilbo nodded.

"Okay, so that shows that he was there. He can explain that away, right? I mean, it's good that we have proof he was in the area, but that doesn't prove anything other than him being there. He can still deny having a gun or shooting Fro – anyone," Bilbo said.

"Ah, but what he didn't realize is that there are cameras on the _back_ of the Dollar Tree as well, overlooking the loading docks. They show him clearly watching the group with Frodo and the rest, then he takes out a gun and fires it, places it back under his jacket and runs back up between the Dollar Tree and the senior center." She paused, moved more paper, then continued. "The Key Bank camera shows him getting back into his car and driving away."

Bilbo stared at the phone; he felt suddenly very cold.

"Does the Key Bank camera show him putting the gun back in the trunk?" Dain asked, scrawling notes quickly on his pad.

"No," Bergil said, sounding pleased. "It looks like he just gets in the car, tosses something onto the passenger seat, and drives off."

"Huh," Dain said, sounding equally pleased. "Any chance there's a camera on the back of the Diner?"

"That would be a piece of luck, but no, they've only got one exterior camera and it's pointed at Genesee."

"Damn." Dain looked at Bilbo and smiled. "So, any chance we can get that video, so Thorin can identify the suspect?"

"He's next on my list – is he there?" 

"Ah," Bilbo coughed. "No, he didn't come with us. He had a meeting. I can call him, if you want." He rubbed his hands together. "This is good, right? I mean, we've got him – Bolg – on tape with the gun and shooting it, so you should be able to get the search warrant, right?"

"That's the plan," she said, not sounding as confident as Bilbo hoped. "It'll help if we have Thorin's testimony as well. I'll be talking to the judge on Monday, so if you can have him call me today, we can get further along on that."

Bilbo pulled out his phone. "I'll call him right now." Thorin didn't answer, so Bilbo left a message asking him to call Bergil and leaving her number. 

After a few pleasantries, Bergil hung up, leaving Dain and Bilbo staring at each other and smiling. 

"Well," Bilbo said, "that wasn't what I was expecting at all."

"You've gotta love modern technology," Dain agreed. 

Frodo was quiet on the drive back. When they were at the peak of the Richmond Bridge, he said, "What did she want? Am I in trouble for not remembering?"

"Oh no," Bilbo said quickly. "No, there was just some stuff about the case she wanted to discuss and since it didn't really involve you, there wasn't any reason for you to be there." He thought for a minute, then continued, slowly. "Honestly, I'm not sure she should be telling me either, given that it's an ongoing investigation, but I'm glad she did. They're making progress."

"Good," Frodo said. "I don't like them." 

"None of us do, kiddo," Bilbo said. 

***

The weekend was relaxed – Bilbo spent most of Saturday catching up on work and preparing for midterms. Thorin stayed at his own house Friday and Saturday nights, but showed up on Sunday morning carrying several over-full canvas tote bags filled with groceries.

He set the bags on the kitchen table and began unpacking, laughing at Bilbo's insistence that he could feed himself.

"It's the least I can do," Thorin said, setting a large piece of beef on the counter. "If I'm going to be spending time here, I figure I should contribute to the joint household, right?"

Bilbo sat back, suddenly overwhelmed at the idea that the two of them might have anything which could be considered a 'joint household'. "I, ah, sure," he said.

Thorin turned from his contemplation of the fridge. "If you're uncomfortable," he said, looking mightily uncomfortable himself, "or don't want me to stay, I can – "

"No, no, it's okay," Bilbo said. "Just, I was startled. What did you get?"

"I got a standing rib roast. I haven't made one in years, so I thought it might be fun to try again." He grinned over his shoulder at Bilbo. "Where's your roasting pan?"

Bilbo snorted, got him set up, then went back to his office. "I hate writing tests," he muttered. After a while, he reached out without thinking about it and picked up a cup of coffee. As he put it to his mouth, he realized it was hot. "When did … " he said.

"I brought cookies as well," Thorin said, from where he was reading on the small couch in the room. "They're just past the coffee – store bought, but still good, right?"

"You're a wonder," Bilbo said and dove back into his work. When he next looked up, Thorin was gone and the house smelled delicious.

Dinner was thick slices of prime rib, steamed broccoli with sesame oil and coarse salt, roast potatoes and carrots, with a large salad. After dinner, just as Bilbo was groaning about never eating again, Thorin pulled out a small lemon bundt cake and fresh raspberries.

"Oh god," Bilbo said. "No, honestly, I can't. I'll explode or something."

Thorin laughed. "Maybe later, then." He caught Frodo's eye and snorted. "Or sooner, depending."

Frodo stood and cleared the table. "I'll bring mine to my room, okay?"

After he left, carrying a plate with a large slab of the cake and a pile of raspberries, Thorin collapsed back into his chair. "I don't know where he's putting it all."

Bilbo shrugged. "Height and brain development, I think. And crazy antics." He leaned his chin on his hand. "Thanks for dinner, by the way. It was delicious."

Thorin looked down at his hands. "It's … you're welcome. Do you still have work?"

"No, I think I'm good, now. I've got all three tests written and I'm caught up with the research I've been ignoring." He slid his feet over to rest next to Thorin's under the table. "Ori's going to be graduating this spring, I think. He's nearly done with his thesis."

"Is he? We should have a big party." Thorin said. 

***

On his way to work the next day, something about two people waiting to cross the street near the school caught his eye. He couldn’t tell what made them stick out – they were wearing jeans and hoodies, just like most of the other students. As he parked and walked to his office, he kept puzzling at it. 

It wasn't until he saw three of his lab students scooting into lab barely on time that he figured it out. Neither of the people had been wearing backpacks or had any other visible school supplies. _Huh. I guess they haven't learned how useful it is to take notes. Must be freshmen._

In his office after class, he sat and stared at the blank screen of his computer for a minute. 

_To: BellaBaggins  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Mom,_

_How are you and Dad? I haven't heard from you for a few days. We've had some good news from the police in Syracuse. They've found security camera footage of the guy that Thorin said he saw, so it looks like they'll be able to get the search warrant they've been blocked from getting._

_Frodo's out of the sling and seems to be doing pretty well._

_I've got midterms coming up, but I've been thinking about the boat. I think we should try to get it fixed. I don't know how much work it'll be, but it's something that might end up being important to Frodo later. There was a guy I talked to when I was clearing the boat out – I'll see if I can find his card. He said he'd be willing to talk to me about what it would take to get the Brandywine fixed._

_Thorin's spending some time at my house with us. Not all the time, but … well. He asks about you two a lot. He made a really good rib roast last night._

_I love you both._

_Bilbo  
_

There was a sound from the door and Bilbo glanced at it, expecting to see Beorn coming in. The door didn't open, so he shrugged and opened a paper he'd been looking forward to reading. Eventually, he gathered what he needed for his next class and stood, shoving his chair under the table. 

There was an envelope shoved under the door; PROFESER BAGINNS was scrawled on it with thick marker. With a glance at his watch, he dropped it in his bag and trotted through the chaos of students to get to the lab. A couple of students watched as he passed, but he nodded at them and they turned back to their friends. 

He got the students set up and then sat in the back, at the corner of a bench he liked to use as a portable office; it let him get reading done while still being able to keep an eye on the classroom. When he pulled out his laptop, he caught the envelope as well and, with a shrug, opened it.

_YU THINK YOU AR SO SMART BUT WE CAN FIND YOU ENEYWHERE._

He gasped and flinched back, dropping the sheet of paper on his keyboard. The nearest students looked over at him and he shook his head at them, hoping he didn't look as spooked as he felt.

_Who would …?_ He prodded the paper with his fingertips, feeling oddly like it might be painful to touch it again. _Shit, I have to put that away before someone sees it._ He hurriedly stuffed it back in the envelope, dropping it back in his bag and wiping his hands on his lab coat. 

"Professor?" His head snapped up to see Fatima standing at his side, holding a beaker half full of a white liquid. "I can't find a working hot plate. The one at my station isn't stirring."

He blinked at her, then closed his laptop and followed her to her seat. As he reached for her hot plate, he had a terrible thought. _Oh god, if they can find me, they can find Frodo!_ The hot plate dropped from his hands, crashing to the ground; everyone in the lab jumped.

He pressed his lips together and bent to collect the broken machine. Fatima bent down with him. "Are you okay, sir?" she whispered.

"Yes, thank you," he replied, knowing she could tell that he was lying. "I … I'm fine. I'll go get you a new hot plate from the stock room."

On the way to the stock room, he called Frodo's school.

"Oh, Professor Baggins," the school secretary chirped. "The box with the flowers for Frodo arrived, but we can't have them delivered to his classroom, so we're holding them here for him. Will that be okay?"

He gritted his teeth and tried to breathe calmly. "That's fine. I'll come pick them up myself. I'll be there in – " He looked at his watch. "In about an hour. Don't bother telling Frodo about them, if you don't mind."

"Oh, we already sent a note around, but if he comes to get them, I'll tell him that you're coming for them. It'll be easier for him anyway, poor mite. That way, he won't have to try to carry them home himself."

"Exactly," Bilbo gritted, then hung up. While at the stock room, he arranged for Ori to cover his lecture class. On the way back to the lab with the new hot plate, he told Ori why he was leaving early.

"Wait," Ori said, putting a hand on Bilbo's arm. "You got a threatening note here, on campus?" He looked around the hallway; there were two or three students standing in a clump outside the computer room, chatting to someone inside the room.

"Yes," Bilbo said, "and now someone's delivered a box, supposedly with flowers in it, to Frodo."

Ori grimaced. "Maybe they're just flowers?"

Bilbo didn't know how he managed to get through the conversation with Frodo's school secretary without screaming, but he was finally back at his car with the box safely tucked under one arm. He glanced around and, when he was sure he was alone in the parking lot, he opened the box.

Inside was a little wooden boat, smashed to pieces.


	94. Ninety Four – More Information and New Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo deals with the letter and the package, and learns that things might not be quite as he expected in the process.

"Hey, is that the flowers for Frodo? Why'd you come get them?" 

Bilbo startled so badly at the unexpected voice that he nearly fell. 

"Hey," Sam said, Rosie at his shoulder. They looked very concerned. "Are you okay, Mr Bilbo?"

Bilbo scrambled to close the box; his hands were shaking too hard and he dropped the lid instead of lifting it. Rosie picked it up and handed it to him, then stiffened as she glanced into the box. Her eyes were very wide as she looked up at him.

"Who sent that?" she asked. At the tone in her voice, Sam leaned forward and gasped.

Bilbo coughed. "I don't know," he rasped, "and I'm not sure how to find out." He managed to close the lid and pressed it down hard enough to feel the edges of the box cut into his hands. "Don't – don't tell Frodo about this."

Sam nodded soberly. "No problem. I'll tell him you came to get the, uh, the flowers, so they wouldn't wilt. We'll go home on the bus like usual."

"Good idea." Bilbo pressed down on the box lid one more time, then shoved it under a loose jacket he kept in the back of his car. "I'll stop off on the way home and get some flowers." He sighed and ran a hand over his face. 

"Is… will you have someone at home?" Rosie's voice was sympathetic and soft.

"Yes, thank you," Bilbo said. "Thorin's home right now, I think, so I'll be okay." He looked at them. "Shouldn't you be in class right now?"

They suddenly looked sheepish. "We were on the way to the library and saw you carrying the box and thought it would be funny to see what you'd sent Frodo."

In the car on the way to a florist, Bilbo kept trying to think of who might have sent the note and the boat. They were clearly threats, but from whom? Azog – or someone associated with him – was the obvious answer. _Could one of the Orc Horde have done this? They were following me. Would Azog be able to get Frodo's school address from anything connected to the shooting case? I wonder how that's going – if Bergil's been able to get her search warrant._

He pulled up to turn right, but had to wait as pedestrians streamed across the street. He watched them almost without seeing them until something caught his eye. A tall young man in a black hoodie had glanced at his car then pulled his hood up higher and shoved forward through the crowd. He'd caught Bilbo's eye before turning away, and his expression had been tense. 

"Is that one of the kids I saw at school?" Bilbo muttered. He inched his car forward, trying to see through the flocks of business people fleeing downtown. By the time he could see where the man had disappeared to, he was gone. 

"How weird," Bilbo said. He pulled into a parking place near the florist shop and looked up and down the street at the cloud of strangers. Suddenly, the combination of the note he'd gotten, the clearly threatening boat delivered to Frodo and the unexpected flashing memory of the person in a hoodie walking up his street the night Dain and Nori had come to help all came crashing together in his head. 

For a long moment, he sat frozen in the car, staring out at the crowd, perfectly normal, absolutely mundane, oppressively threatening. Anyone could be one of the Orc Horde. There wasn't any way of determining who was who. _I should just go home._

He reached for the car key, then stopped. He closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath, letting the warmth of the sun streaming through the windshield heat his face. After a while, his heart stopped racing and he felt calm again. 

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "The odds of one of Azog's goons being here is pretty low. Get it together, Bilbo."

In the florist's, he looked around at the buckets of flowers and shook his head. _Lobelia would be so sarcastic at these prices._ With a sigh, he asked the young lady behind the counter if they had anything without roses. It took half an hour of discussion, but he ended up leaving with a small terrarium filled with tiny whole plants and pretty river rocks. 

Back in the car, he latched the passenger seat belt around the box with the terrarium, and patted it. "You'll do," he said.

When he got home, Sam and Rosie were in Frodo's room with him. Thorin was in the back bedroom, but he came out quickly when he heard Bilbo's voice. He smiled, slow and warm, as Bilbo dropped his bag in his office.

"Hey, Uncle Bilbo," Frodo called, voice bright. "Who sent me flowers?"

Bilbo twitched. _Shit, I forgot that part._ "I don't know, kiddo," he said, trying to keep his own voice bright to match Frodo's. He saw Thorin's brows draw in and knew he must have shown his distress. "Why don't you open the box?"

The terrarium was a complete success; all three kids loved it. Bilbo said that it was probably from his parents, which seemed to satisfy all the questions Frodo asked. Sam and Rosie exclaimed over the different plants, and before they went off to find a good place for it in Frodo's room they both nodded firmly at Bilbo. 

Thorin sat down next to Bilbo at the table and said, "So, what's that about?"

"I got a threatening note at school today," Bilbo said softly, "and that terrarium wasn't what was delivered to Frodo's school."

Thorin's shoulders tightened and his hands fisted in his lap. " _What?_ "

"The note was shoved under my office door – I've got it in my bag, in the office – and I've got the original box from Frodo's school still in my car." Bilbo put his elbows on the table and rested his face in his hands. "I assume this is all from Azog, but it's not like they _signed_ it." After a moment, he continued, "And I have to call my mom and get her to call and claim the terrarium."

"Did you call the police?" Thorin sounded like he was speaking through gravel.

"The – shit, no, I just hurried to the florist to get something for Frodo. The school secretary sent a note to his class about the flowers, so I had to get something to replace them. Or, you know," he waved a hand vaguely. "To put in their place."

"You have to call the police." Thorin stared at Bilbo. "Do it now. I'll call Dain while you're on the phone with the cops."

"Oh," Bilbo said, as he took out his phone and stared at it. "And I think there are people in hoodies following me."

Thorin pressed his lips together and tapped his own phone. 

Bilbo started to dial, then stopped. _Probably not 911._

"Hey Dain… yes, hi, long time no call, seriously Dain, now's not the time. … " Thorin glared at the countertop. "Shut up for a second. Bilbo got a threatening note shoved under his door at work, and something got delivered to Frodo's school. … No, he's okay, Bilbo replaced it." Thorin rolled his eyes over to Bilbo and held the phone out. "He wants to talk to you."

"Have you called the police?" Dain's voice was rough.

"No, I was about to – " 

"Have you touched the note? What was delivered to Frodo's school?"

"Yes, how else would I have known what it was? And, uh, it's a smashed boat painted to look like the Brandywine."

Thorin had been making them a pot of coffee and Bilbo saw, reflected in the glass sliding door, the way his whole body jerked. On the phone, Dain's silence felt like ice.

"Okay," Dain said slowly. "That's oddly helpful, if _fucking_ awful. Did he see it?"

"No," Bilbo said, watching Thorin shift back from stone to flesh and creakily go back to filling the coffee maker. "He didn't. His … Sam and Rosie, his boy and girl friends did." He paused again. "I haven't shown the letter to anyone."

Dain made a soft huffing sound. "Okay. Call the police, but ask if you can bring the stuff to to them tomorrow. Also, you'll need to call Bergil."

"But it's the middle of the night there!" Bilbo looked at his watch and did some quick math. "It's past 9 at night."

"It's a police station, Bilbo," Dain said, sounding amused. "Someone will be there." 

Bilbo nodded and muttered thanks as Thorin handed him a cup of coffee. "Okay. I'll call and then call you back? Should I – will you be there?"

"Not a bad idea. How about this? I'll be at your house by ten and you can make the appointment for any time after that." Bilbo could hear Dain flipping pages. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Will you be okay tonight?"

Bilbo looked at Thorin, who was standing with his arms wrapped tightly around his own chest. "I think we'll be okay," he sighed.

When Bilbo hung up, Thorin surged forward and caught him up in a huge hug; he pressed his face into Bilbo's hair and spread his hands across Bilbo's shoulders. Bilbo leaned in, wrapping his arms around Thorin's waist, breathing in the comforting scent of cooking and metal and stone. 

"It'll be okay," Thorin whispered. "We'll figure this out."

Bilbo nodded, squeezed him tight for one second, then stood back. "So, what's for dinner?"

The next morning, Bilbo, Thorin, and Dain sat in a small room in the police department. Bilbo sat between the other two men, with the envelope and box resting on the table in front of him. A short dark skinned man with dreadlocks tied into a pony tail opened the door. He said something over his shoulder, then shut the door behind himself and sat across from Bilbo, Dain, and Thorin.

"Hello," he said. His voice was soft and deep. "My name is Detective Orofin. I understand you've received a threatening letter? Can you tell me about what happened?"

With a deep breath, Bilbo launched into the story, starting and stopping – and being interrupted by both Dain and Thorin when he missed something. Finally, after nearly an hour, Bilbo pushed the letter across to Orofin, who opened it. He nodded and set it aside. 

"And the box?" he asked.

Bilbo flexed his fingers, then lifted the lid. He didn't look inside, but heard both Dain and Thorin suck in sharp breaths as they saw the shattered toy boat. 

Detective Orofin looked at the fragments, then glanced back and forth between the three of them, finally settling his gaze on Bilbo. "This is a reproduction of your cousins' boat?"

"Well," Bilbo said, feeling something catch in his throat, "it's painted like it. I don't think it's actually the same, uh, type of boat."

"I see." Orofin closed the box and set it aside, then folded his hands. "We'll get started on investigating this at our end – I'll need your fingerprints for that, Professor Baggins, as well as those of anyone you showed these to."

Bilbo nodded and held his hands out. 

Orofin smiled. "We'll take them in the other room. Before we do that, however, I'll call the detective in Syracuse so she can begin investigation on her end." He lifted the handset of the speaker phone on the desk when Thorin leaned forward.

"I just remembered – tell him about the men following you." He put a hand on Bilbo's shoulder.

Dain swung around. "What do you mean, following you? Who's following you?"

Bilbo glanced at Thorin, whose face looked like a storm cloud. 

"I don't know if they're actually following me or if I'm just paranoid," he said, shrugging.

Orofin leaned forward and nodded. "Tell me anyway. If it's nothing, then there's nothing to worry about. If it's something else, well – " He shrugged in return. "Then we pay attention to it."

"So I keep seeing these men in black hoodies. I mean –" He twisted his fingers together. "It sounds ridiculous. I'm a professor at a large college, of course there are young men in black hoodies everywhere, but…"

Orofin made an encouraging gesture and Bilbo plunged on. "But they don't have backpacks and their hoods are always up. And I've seen them – now that I think about it, I've been seeing them for a while. There was one in my neighborhood last Tuesday, late at night. And most of the time, no one walks in my neighborhood – I saw some guy from up the hill drive his car backwards down the hill to get to the mail box at the main intersection once."

Dain snorted and Bilbo chuckled. "Yeah, I know, it sounds like a scene from a stupid movie, but really. That was several years ago – I think they've taken that mail box out, now."

Orofin looked up from his notebook. "Can you tell me every time you've seen these people? Did you get a look at their faces? Did they indicate an interest in you at all?"

Bilbo crossed his arms. "See, that's why I'm not sure they're actually following me. I've seen the face of one of them, but not for long. And mostly, no, they don't seem to be obviously paying attention to me."

Thorin leaned forward. "I think I've seen them as well," he rumbled. "We were at the park near the docks, the harbor, you know?"

"Middle Harbor Shoreline Park? Not many people know about that one." Orofin looked mildly impressed. 

"There was a guy there, I didn't think much of it at the time, but he pulled into the parking lot right after Bilbo did, then he sort of … I don't know how to describe it. He sort of loitered around until we were clearly going in one direction – down the path, you know – and then he walked around the outside of the park until we left." Thorin rubbed his lips. "I didn't notice if he followed us out, though."

"But he didn't speak to either of your or look directly at you?"

"No," Thorin said, looking annoyed.

"Right," Orofin said. "So, we'll put this down as possibly suspicious activity and leave it at that until something more specific happens. Now, can we call Syracuse?"

Bergil was horrified at the news that Bilbo and Frodo had gotten threats, and she and Orofin dissolved into a flurry of shoptalk so quick that Bilbo couldn't keep up. He could see Dain keeping track and resolved to ask him after the meeting was over.

At the very end of the phone conversation, Orofin said, "One last thing, Professor Baggins says that he's been seeing men in black hoodies following him around."

There was a long silence from the phone, then Bergil said, "Oh, uh. Right, that might be my fault, actually."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was looking for flowery things that Bilbo could get for Frodo. This entails looking at a lot of local florists shops.
> 
> This florist is taking the piss, right? [Attraction](http://www.grandflowersofoakland.com/product/flowers/luxury/attraction-luxury-rose-bouquet-24-inch-premium-long-stemmed-rose). I mean, really, how can that be worth $3000.00? WTF.
> 
> This is what Bilbo got for Frodo. [Woodland Greens](http://puravidaflowersandplants.com/oakland-pura-vida-flowers-and-plants/woodland-greens-terrarium.html). It doesn't fit into a standard florist box, but Frodo won't mind. 
> 
> And this one's pretty, but really, for that price? I'll make my own Duet. [Duet](http://www.grandflowersofoakland.com/product/flowers/luxury/duet-luxury-rose-bouquet-18-stems-of-24-inch-premium-long-stemme)


	95. Ninety Five – Working Things Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just how is any of this _Bergil's_ fault and what'll they do now?

Bilbo coughed. "What do you mean, 'your fault'?" Next to him, Dain looked like he was having a sudden revelation.

"The case against the Gogol family involves more than just this one shooting," Bergil said slowly, "and while I understand Professor Baggins' unwillingness to have protective custody assigned to him and his family members, the other law enforcement organizations with which I am working believed that it would be advantageous to, ah…" 

"Protect him against his will?" Dain asked, a broad grin on his face. He started laughing at Thorin's glare.

"Something like that," Bergil said, sounding amused herself. "They assured me they'd be discreet. I take it that hasn't been the case?"

"Not so much, no," Bilbo said drily. 

Thorin had transferred his glare to Bilbo. "You never told me you refused protective custody."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "It isn't your business, honestly. And it was immediately after we got back from Syracuse, and I had no idea there would be any need." He paused, surprised at how annoyed he felt. "And I didn't want to have police officers following me and Frodo around, thank you very much."

Thorin had pulled back in his seat a bit and Bilbo could see Orofin looking 'professionally neutral' while gazing down at the paperwork on his desk. 

Bilbo heaved in a deep breath. "So, yes, I turned down Officer Reid's offer of having police follow me around. Given that I still got that stupid note and someone delivered that fucking _boat_ to Frodo's school – I can only assume that they intended to deliver it to him in person – I fail to see how getting protective custody was in any way helpful."

The room echoed with silence for a moment, then Dain cleared his throat. "You make very cogent points," he said gently. "Perhaps," he continued, "it might help if we met with them and discussed the current situation."

"I don't – " Bilbo started, but Bergil interrupted him.

"I think that's a very good idea. It would be good for the agents to talk to Bilbo about their concerns and they might be able to find a way to offer him and his nephew some protection in ways that work." 

Orofin looked up, his dark eyes very serious. "I have to agree. Given the fact that neither your workplace nor your nephew's school seem to be very secure, it seems wise to find ways to ensure your safety."

Bilbo pressed his lips together, then slumped backward in his chair. "Fine, sure. But I have to say that I'm not particularly impressed by them." He glanced at Thorin from the corner of his eyes.

He was sitting back in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest; the fingers of the hand Bilbo could see were dug so deeply into his own bicep that the fingertips had gone white. With a pang, Bilbo reached out a hand and placed it over Thorin's.

"I'm sorry, Thorin. You're right, you and Bergil are right, we do need to be more careful. I just … I don't like having to have the police follow me around."

Thorin looked up at him, his expression bleak. "You are _not replaceable_ , and those who love you would be a lot happier if you were careful." His tone was flat and angry, but his fingers curled into Bilbo's and held tight.

"Okay," Bilbo said, turning back to Orofin and the phone with Bergil. "How do we set up a meeting?"

Bergil said, "Hang on a tick, I'm just …" The muffled sound of tapping came through the phone, then she said, "Okay, I've sent their boss an email and he should be contacting you soon."

"How long do you think it'll take to hear from them?" Dain asked, looking at his watch.

Just as Orofin started to answer, his screen flickered; he glanced at it and smiled. "Not long. Let me see what they've said." He clicked on something and leaned toward the screen.

Dain turned to Bilbo, who was still holding Thorin's hand. "I think we should get something to eat before we talk to them, regardless. There are a couple of good sandwich places around here, and I know _I_ could use a snack. And some coffee." 

Orofin flicked a look at him, clearly amused. "What, you don't like the fine coffee we have here?"

Dain rolled his eyes and shook his head. "No. Just because you cops have your taste buds removed when you graduate from the Academy doesn't mean the rest of us should suffer." He stood and jerked his head at Bilbo and Thorin. "Come on, guys. Let's go. They know how to find us."

Outside, Dain said, "The best sandwich shop's a few blocks that way. I feel the need for a bit of a brisk walk, but you two shouldn't feel like you have to keep up with me." He gave them the name of the restaurant and, clapping Thorin on the shoulder, charged away.

Bilbo and Thorin looked at each other, then Thorin shoved his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders rounding. "I guess we should follow him," he said.

"Wait," Bilbo said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you." He reached out and slid his hands around Thorin's waist, pulling him closer. After a second, Thorin's chest hitched and his arms came up around Bilbo. Thorin bent around Bilbo, holding him so tightly against his chest that one of the buttons of Thorin's shirt pressed painfully into his cheek.

Bilbo ran his hands up and down Thorin's back, feeling the tense muscles and the way Thorin was shaking slightly.

"I can't lose you, too," Thorin whispered. "I can't."

Bilbo relaxed into Thorin's grip, letting Thorin take all his weight. "I'm sorry. I'm not going anywhere."

The sandwich shop was across the street from the train station; the station building was all glass, with sharp diagonal lines all merging together to make a smoothly curving building, shimmering in the sun. 

Dain sat in a window table of the restaurant. He looked sharply at them as they passed the window, then grinned broadly as they worked through the crowded restaurant. 

"I've ordered for all of us," he said. "They'll be ready in a minute." 

They sat quietly for a minute, then Dain shook his head. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but the … item delivered to your nephew is actually a good thing." At Bilbo's sharp look, he raised his hands defensively. "It means we're looking for someone who knows that part of your history, which seriously limits the number of people who could have done this."

Bilbo started to respond, but was interrupted.

"Thor!? THOR, your order is ready!"

Dain's head snapped around and he roared with laughter. "I gave them your grandfather's name. What a way to get it wrong." He stood and moved off. 

Bilbo smiled as he saw one of the young women in the crowd stare wide-eyed at Dain as he lifted the tray and said something to the man behind the counter. Bilbo poked Thorin and pointed discreetly toward her. "She looks like she thinks he might _be_ from Asgard."

Thorin looked and then chuckled. "Well, given his hair and mustache, can you blame her?"

Dain beamed at them as he moved three large bowls from the tray to the table. "Glad to see you two looking a bit brighter. What's the joke?"

Bilbo stared at his food; tangled strips of meat mixed piled with mixed steamed vegetables all piled on top of noodles and topped with a perfectly over medium egg. "I thought this was supposed to be sandwiches? I wasn't expecting Korean food."

Over lunch, they kept the conversation light, talking over the chatter of the lunch time crowd and the noise of the trains passing outside. They ended up mostly discussing different cuisines and foods they enjoyed. By the end of the meal, they were laughing at each other's expressions as they brought up foods they didn't like.

"Oh," gasped Bilbo, "but the worst I've ever had – and I know many people love it – but the worst _I_ ever had was uni. Sea urchin roe, only I think it's not really the roe. It's the only thing I've ever eaten where I had to wipe my tongue off after I tasted it." 

Bilbo's phone chirped and he pulled it out.

_From: Orofin  
To: Bilbo_

_We've got an appointment with the team of FBI agents at 6pm tonight. Will that be acceptable?  
_

Bilbo looked up. "Orofin says we can meet the F –" 

"When?" Dain asked. His hands made a complicated movement near the table and Thorin nodded. 

"Six this evening." Bilbo looked back and forth between the two other men. "What's up?"

Thorin put his arm around Bilbo's shoulder and drew him closer, bending his head down to Bilbo's ear. He whispered, "It's probably best if we don't actually talk about this stuff in public."

Bilbo jerked back. "You have got to be – " 

Dain's expression stopped him. He was watching a young man sitting with three other people at a small table in the corner. His phone was propped up and pointed in their direction. Bilbo turned his back to them and nodded at Dain. "Got it." He sighed and rubbed his face. "This is bizarre. Anyway, we can meet at six, the guy says."

"Sounds good," Dain replied. "All of us, do you think, or just the adults?"

Bilbo started to say that Frodo didn't need to come, then thought for a second and sighed again. "It'll probably be best if we all come. I'll go home now, and try to get some work done. Do you – this is a lot of time, Dain, and, well, are you sure you want to be here? And, ah, how much will I owe you for this?"

Dain raised his eyebrows, then turned to look at Thorin. "He's kinda slow, isn't he?" Thorin snorted. Dain turned back to Bilbo. " _I don't charge family._ You're family twice over – I was very good friends with Drogo, and you're seeing my cousin, here. So," he shrugged. "Family."

At Bilbo's house, they sat in the living room with cups of coffee. After a few minutes, Bilbo said, "I've been thinking. About the Brandywine …"

Thorin looked up from where he'd been trading glares with Deathless. "Yes?"

"I think we should fix it. Her." He turned his cup round and round between his hands. "I know it'll be expensive, but Drogo and Prim loved being out on the boat and, well. It might be good for Frodo to have something big of theirs."

Thorin nodded. "What shape is the boat in?"

"It's – oh, you never saw it. Right. It's broken a bit, but I think it'll be okay. There was this guy I met at the marina who seemed to think that the damage wasn't really that bad. It looked bad to me, but I have no idea what I'm looking at there." He finished his coffee and set the cup aside. "I should find his card. He said he'd help me figure things out, if I ended up wanting to fix the boat up."

Thorin stood to bring their cups to the kitchen. "What's his name?"

"That’s the thing," Bilbo said. "I can't remember. The girl behind the desk called him 'Glory', but that was clearly a nickname."

Bilbo stood in the doorway of his home office and looked at the cluttered room. "Well, what a good excuse for cleaning up, right?"

An hour later, the desk was clear, and many of the shelves no longer had stacks of random papers shoved in above the books. He still hadn't found the mystery man's card, but he'd found three books Nori had loaned him and five old coffee cups, which he brought to the kitchen. 

Frodo and Sam were in the kitchen, working on something for class. Bilbo put the cups in the dishwasher, then sat down at the table with them.

"So, what's all this?" He tipped his head to the side. "Biology?"

"We're working on clam worms," Sam said. He was drawing a diagram of the internal organs of a worm on a large piece of paper. 

"Nice job," Bilbo said. "Are the worms interesting?"

Frodo rolled his eyes. "They're the most boring thing. It's like playing with flobberworms, except if they were really flobberworms, at least we'd be at Hogwarts." 

Sam snorted and Bilbo smiled at them, then ran his fingers through his hair. "There's something I've been thinking about, Frodo, and I wanted to talk to you for a minute," he said.

Sam and Frodo exchanged glances; Sam started to stand up, but Bilbo put out a hand. "No, wait. You might have something to say about this." Sam sat down again, looking a bit anxious.

"So," Bilbo said, folding his hands together on the table, "I've been thinking about the Brandywine. It's just sitting there at the marina. What do you think we should do with it?"

Frodo looked down at his papers, then at Sam, who was doing a very good impression of a blank slate, then out the window. The kitchen was silent except for the low swishing of the dishwasher and Bilbo could hear faint bursts of music from down the hall where Thorin was still working.

Finally Frodo heaved a breath and said, "I don't know. I guess I sort of hoped if I didn't think about it, it would go away."

"I can just sell it as is," Bilbo said. "I can find someone to help me figure out how to do that, if you don't want it at all. Just – " he paused and looked at Sam, who was now assiduously focusing on his anatomical diagram. "I was wondering if you'd like to try fixing it up yourself. Well, you and your friends."

Frodo looked thoughtful. "I – I don't know."

"Well," Bilbo said, standing. "Let me know what you decide, okay kiddo? Oh, and we have an appointment at six, so you and Sam'll have to finish this up soon." He wandered back to his office and stood, hands on his hips, wondering where the card could have gotten to.

On a whim, he went to the hall closet and started checking through his jacket pockets. On the third jacket, he felt a thin card in the right hand pocket. 

Under a bright yellow logo of a sun with eight broad beams, read _Glorfindel Gondolin: Battling the Big Threats_ and an email address _Glory@gondolin_.

"Glorfindel. Why does that name sound so familiar?"


	96. Ninety Six – What Does One Offer Federal Agents As A Snack?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Federal agents ask a lot of questions, but most of them aren't what Bilbo expected.

Bilbo wasn't sure if he should make dinner early. He'd tried to settle down to read one of the books he'd found in his office – Nori had sent him several increasingly frustrated emails asking him why he hadn't managed to write the reviews he'd promised for them – but he couldn't concentrate.

_What will they want to talk about?_ He gave up on pretending to read and went to the kitchen. _Maybe they'll want cookies or something._ He pulled out the ingredients for scones, trying to distract himself with the decision between adding in a mix of chopped dried fruit or making savory scones with cheese. With a shrug, he doubled the base dough and set aside half for the savory ones. "If they don't want them, Thorin probably will."

"I'll want what?"

Bilbo jumped and turned to look over his shoulder. Thorin leaned against the doorframe, one hand holding a sheaf of papers and the other rubbing the back of his neck. He smiled at Bilbo and Bilbo felt his shoulders relax.

"Cheese scones," he said, smiling as Thorin's eyes lit. 

"Oh, with cheddar or with blue cheese?" Thorin dropped the papers on the table and stepped close behind Bilbo, wrapping his arms around Bilbo's waist from behind. He rested his chin on Bilbo's shoulder and huffed into Bilbo's hair.

Bilbo laughed, feeling lighter than he'd done in weeks. "I can do them with both, if you like." At Thorin's nod, he tried to walk to the fridge, but couldn't get Thorin's bulk to shift. "Budge up, or you're not getting them."

"Bossy," Thorin said. He didn't let go of Bilbo, but turned himself, nearly carrying Bilbo. When they were pointed in the correct direction, he started moving forward, forcing Bilbo to move with him.

Bilbo relaxed backward, letting his whole weight hang on Thorin's arms. "Well, if you want to do all the work…" He grinned at Thorin's grunt, but had to admit to himself that it was sexy to know that Thorin could, if he wanted, carry him around.

After they'd finished getting both cheeses and Bilbo was back at the bowl, Thorin asked, "Who won't want them?"

Bilbo stopped moving for a moment, then went back to carefully kneading in the cheese. "The FBI agents are coming here – Orofin seemed to think that it would be more discreet. I don't know if we should eat dinner before they get here or if we should wait. I don't know how long they'll be here." He looked down at the scone dough. 

Thorin sat down at the table. "I don't think they'll be here too long. I mean, what can they really need to say?" He shrugged, looking a bit strained.

Bilbo cut the scones into triangles and slid them into the oven, then turned back to the fridge. "What do you want for dinner? I have leftover chicken. I could make burritos?"

In the end, Bilbo set the rice maker to gurgling and made the pico de gallo and guacamole to fill the burritos, letting them rest in the fridge until it was time to put the burritos together. 

At five minutes to six, the doorbell rang. Bilbo stood up from where he'd been pretending to read in the living room and, asking Thorin to bring the scones and some coffee into the living room, went to the door.

Four men stood outside, two of them in dark hoodies with the hoods up. One was wearing a faded and dusty ball cap, an old plaid shirt open over a white tee and jeans. The fourth was wearing a black suit with a crisp white button down shirt and black tie. He stepped forward as Bilbo opened the door.

"Assistant Special Agent in Charge Nyall Lindir, at your service." He held open his wallet, showing a photo ID at the top and a large, gold badge on the bottom. "May we come in, please?"

Bilbo stepped backwards. "Of course, please, come in." Once inside, the man dressed in what could be work clothes tugged his hat off and pulled out his own identification.

"Supervisory Special Agent Erestor Thinde," he said, tucking his ID away and shaking Bilbo's hand. 

The final two men glanced at each other from under their hoods, then when Lindir coughed, they pulled them down at the same time, revealing identical faces. 

"Special Agents Elladan –" 

"And Elrohir Peredhil," they said, in unison. "At your service."

Bilbo closed his mouth, then looked closely at them. "Peredhil? Surely not."

Lindir looked at them, then at Bilbo, and sighed. "May we – " He gestured to the door at the other end of the foyer.

"Oh! Of course, please, follow me," Bilbo said, leading the way to the living room, where Thorin had already set out the coffee pot and several trays with pastries. Bilbo noticed that Thorin had only put out three of each kind of scone and glanced at him; Thorin's face was blandly polite, but Bilbo could see a glint in his eyes.

When everyone was seated with coffee and pastries, Bilbo leaned forward and looked back and forth between the two twins. "You're not related to an Elrond Peredhil, are you?"

The two of them looked at each other, then back at Bilbo. One, Bilbo wasn't sure which, leaned forward and held out a hand. "Yes, he's our father." He glanced at Lindir, who looked a little stiff. "He hasn't told us anything he shouldn't, and we don't tell him about our cases, but we saw your nephew's name and had to take the case."

"So that's why you were so insistent," Thinde said, rubbing his nose. "Things suddenly become apparent." 

"Now that we've cleared that up," Lindir said, setting his untouched plate aside, "I think it's time we actually began discussing the actual topic."

"Ah," Bilbo said. "Should I get my nephew?"

The four FBI agents glanced at each other, then Thinde said, "Possibly not immediately. There are things which can include him, but this part is probably not best for him."

Bilbo sat back, feeling uncertain. He caught Thorin shifting in his chair, clearly settling back. He'd lifted his chin and was staring down his nose at one of the two Peredhils, who was eyeing Deathless with curiosity. _Leave it to Thorin to be annoyed at someone looking at his carven avatar._

"As you are involved with parts of the case as a whole," Lindir said, nodding to Thorin, "we are glad to have you here for the entire discussion. I was worried that we'd have to reschedule."

Thorin's face contracted for a second, then he smoothed his expression. "Okay." He sipped his coffee. "Where do we start? How about why you thought it was a good idea to follow Bilbo around without telling him?"

Thinde chuckled. "We didn't have a lot of time to set this up, and they –" he nodded in the direction of the Peredhils, "insisted that they'd be able to fit in well enough on Professor Baggins' campus."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "They'd have done better to bring backpacks or something. There _are_ students who can get by without study materials, but it's pretty rare. Especially in the science buildings."

"That is something we'll be working on," Lindir said, his tone bland. "However, the main reason we're here isn't for Elladan and Elrohir to re-learn what it's like in college." He paused, gathered everyone with a glance, then leaned forward. "We at the FBI have been tracking the Gogol family and their connection to several large scale drug operations for many years now."

Bilbo sat up, but noticed that Thorin didn't look at all surprised. 

"Are you going to need to talk to either Boromir or Faramir Forvaltare?" Thorin's voice was empty of all emotion; his face was stony. Bilbo reached out, but Thorin pulled his arms against his sides and glared at Lindir. "Because the one you should be talking to, in that case, is Denethor."

"Are you in contact with the Forvaltare family?" Thinde set his own plate, now decorated with nothing but crumbs, aside. "Officer Bergil indicated you might be able to put us in contact with them. We have several questions –" 

Lindir's hand slashed through the air, cutting Thinde off sharply. Lindir stared at Thorin, who was glaring back. 

After a long, tense moment, Lindir spread his hands open and said, "We would very much like to talk to any of the Forvaltare family members. As you say, Denethor is of more direct interest, but as Faramir is also personally involved, we would appreciate the chance to talk to both of them."

Thorin crossed his arms and dropped his chin to his chest, clearly refusing to answer.

Bilbo looked back and forth between them, glancing at the other agents. "What's this? What does this have to do with Azog sending me and Frodo threats?"

One of the Peredhils leaned forward and whispered, "This doesn't have anything specifically to do with your part in the case against the Gogol family. But it _is_ why the FBI was originally interested in the Gogols."

Bilbo pressed his lips together. "Which one are you?" he whispered back. "And you still haven't explained any of this."

"I'm Elladan." He grinned and Bilbo could suddenly see his resemblance to someone else he knew.

"Wait," Bilbo said, forgetting to whisper. "That means you're Arwen's brothers. But why is your – " He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Nope, never mind, not my business."

The other one – Elrohir – leaned forward. "Our sister likes you a lot." He shrugged lazily, lifting only one shoulder. "She generally has good taste, so we took her word for it."

Thorin stood up. "I'll email … I might be able to find out if anyone wants to talk to you." He ran a hand over his face. "Just – he's finally managed to put most of this behind him."

Lindir looked apologetic. "I am very sorry. I'm aware that this might be uncomfortable for him, but it will certainly help us ensure no one else is ever caught the same way again."

Thorin nodded jerkily, then left the room. Bilbo stared after him, then turned back to the agents. "Why don't you tell me what this is all about?"

"It's late," Thinde said, "and it's not really relevant to your part of the case. I think we should focus on the threats you received. Do you still have them?"

"I do," Bilbo said. "I'll go get them." He stood and, halfway out of the door, turned back. "Please, have more of the cookies. I made them just for you." He turned back to the corridor, but not before seeing Elrohir's face brighten.

In his office, he picked up the bag with the 'floral' box and the letter which he'd gotten. In the corridor, he glanced at the half-closed door to the back bedroom. With a shake of his head, he pushed it open.

Thorin was sitting at the little desk in the room, typing an email. He looked up when Bilbo opened the door and sighed. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to get so distracted."

"No problem," Bilbo said, coming closer. "Will you tell me about it? I've met Faramir, at Bombur's restaurant. He seemed really nice – I'd hate for him to be involved in something bad."

Thorin rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "It's really Denethor's fault. If Bergil's father hadn't gotten involved, though, Faramir might have been destroyed."

"Who's Denethor? No wait – " Bilbo lifted a hand. "I have to go finish talking to the FBI people about…" He lifted the bag and Thorin flinched slightly. "You can tell me the rest of this story later tonight?"

"Sure. I'll just finish this email to Faramir and then I'll come back to the living room, okay?"

In the living room, Elrohir and Elladan pulled nitrile gloves on and carefully opened the letterand the box. "You touched this, I assume," Elladan said. "Did they take your prints at the local police station? If they didn't, we'll need to take them now."

Bilbo nodded. "They did and I'm pretty sure Detective Orofin said he'd be giving you a copy."

Thorin slipped back in the room and sat on the couch close to Bilbo, his thigh pressing against Bilbo's. Elladan glanced at him. 

"Did you, or anyone else, touch these?"

"Ah, the secretary at Frodo's school, but no one else, as far as I know." Bilbo watched as Thinde took quick notes on a small notepad. 

"We'll have to talk to her," Lindir murmurred and Bilbo nodded. 

"We have copies of all the information from Officer Bergil regarding the events earlier this year in New York. Is there anything else you can think of which might be important for us to know?" Lindir had taken out a notepad of his own and was thumbing through it to find a blank page.

Bilbo shrugged. "I don't think so? Azog has had his goons following me for a while now. I think it started – " He looked at Thorin. "Was it before or after I went to meet you in Baltimore?"

Thorin shook his head. "I'm not sure, but it was around that time. Azog's archives would have the information, though; that's where he posted the pictures of you."

Lindir was jotting things down quickly. "So, he's commissioned other people to stalk you using his website? That's good to know." 

Elladan looked up. "May we keep these?" He gestured at the bag. 

"I certainly don't want them," Bilbo said.

"Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo called from the corridor. "Oh, there you are – " He broke off and looked suddenly deeply anxious, staring at the four strangers in the living room. "Is .. is everyone okay? Auntie Bella?"

Bilbo sucked in a breath and held out a hand. "Things are fine, Frodo. These are FBI agents, here to talk to me about Azog."

Sam stood close behind Frodo, clearly – to Bilbo – offering his support. Frodo shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "Okay. We were wondering about dinner, but we can – "

"We were hoping to meet you," Elladan said, standing. "My name is Elladan Peredhil and this is my brother, Elrohir."

Frodo's eyes widened. "My … I know someone with that name."

Elrohir looked up at him from his seat. "He's our father. You can tell him you've met us, if you like."

Frodo sidled further into the room, sitting on the arm of the couch, Sam still as close as his shadow. "Why did you want to meet me? Just so I could tell your dad?"

Thinde chuckled. "No, but I'm sure he'd be happy to have a report on these two hellions." He avoided a kick from Elrohir and Frodo's expression lightened. "No," Thinde repeated. "We're investigating Azog and his family and so we had some questions for you, if your guardian says it's okay."

Frodo looked at Bilbo, who raised his eyebrows back.

"If you're up for it, kiddo, it might help." 

Frodo nodded sharply, then slid down to sit next to Bilbo. 

"What do you want to know?"


	97. Ninety Seven – Nothing is Ever Easy Or What It Seems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens. It seems like everyone else knows what's going on - and Bilbo can't keep up.

Ultimately, Frodo didn't have much he could tell the agents that they didn't already know, although they told him that it was very good to have his perspective on things. He looked pleased, and appeared even more so when Thorin followed him and Sam from the living room to say that they'd been thinking of having burritos for dinner. 

Elrohir leaned forward. "We'll have to continue to guard you – I do hope you understand our position." 

Bilbo nodded. "I'm not happy about it, but since it's clear you're going to, regardless, we might as well be up front about it. Does this mean you have to stay in my house, or are you going to lurk outside, in a car, like on the X Files?"

Thinde snorted. "Good plan, actually. I can see Elladan here wearing a nice red wig and those cute little pumps that Scully used to wear."

"You're just jealous," Elladan said, tossing his hair over his shoulder. "I've always said I'm the pretty one."

Lindir sighed heavily. "I'll leave you three to arrange the details, but I want someone to keep an eye on the high school as well as at the college. I'm certain you can work out a rotation that keeps everyone happy." He stood and shook Bilbo's hand. 

"I'm sure," he continued, "that we'll be in touch. Thank you very much for your hospitality."

When Bilbo came back to the living room after seeing Lindir off, Elladan and Thinde were loudly discussing the various merits of the different costumes Gillian Anderson had worn on the X Files and Elrohir was looking closely at the dragon vase in the glass-fronted cabinet.

He turned as Bilbo entered the room. "This vase is quite striking. Where did you get it?"

Bilbo opened the case and handed him the vase. "It was a gift, on Valentine's Day." He met Elrohir's unbelieving gaze with a flat one of his own. "No, really. Nice, isn't it?" He smiled and gently took the vase back, setting it carefully on its shelf. 

"Hey," Elladan said, making both Elrohir and Bilbo turn around. "We think we've got something worked out. Erestor's going to the kid's school tomorrow – he'll talk to the office staff, and you and I are on college duty. Are you up for it?" 

Elrohir sighed. "As long as I’m in the Mulder suit, not Scully's awful multicolor teal and pink jacket."

The next morning, Bilbo called the high school office as soon as they opened. The conversation was a bit awkward, but he felt better knowing that he'd been the one to explain the situation to them rather than them having the shock of an FBI agent just appearing out of the blue.  
He hadn't put much thought to how his own day would go until he stood at the front of the classroom and nearly started laughing. Elladan sat in the back corner of the room, wearing a leather coat over a black Metallica tee shirt and torn jeans. 

Fatima trotted into the room and stopped halfway down the aisle to her usual seat. She stared at Elladan, then turned to Bilbo, eyebrows raised. Setting her books down, she came back to the front of the room and leaned close to Bilbo.

"Is that a new student? I've seen him around campus for the past couple of weeks, but never in one of the classrooms," she whispered.

Bilbo coughed. _What do I tell her?_ "Well," he said, "I'm not sure. He – wait, a _couple of weeks_?"

"Sure." She looked at him, her expression slightly pitying. "You mean you haven't noticed him?"

Bilbo felt his face twist into a smile for a moment, then he started chuckling. "No, I'm afraid I was distracted. He can't do much in the class, though. He's forgotten a notebook and pencil."

She glanced over her shoulder. "I could loan him some paper and a pencil." She went back to her seat and rummaged in her bag, producing a small notebook and a bright pink mechanical pencil. As the rest of the class filed in, Bilbo watched her approach Elladan and press the tools on him. Elladan looked as if he didn't know what to do, but his smile as he accepted the paper and pencil seemed honest enough. 

His slightly panicked glance at Bilbo, after Fatima sat down in her own seat, looked honest as well, and Bilbo tried to not roar with laughter.

After class, Bilbo sat at his computer in his office and opened his email. He sent them a quick response, then continued down. 

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: Nori@ConsortBooks_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_Well, that was interesting. I talked to Smaug about his 'family history' and how it connects to Albanian history and holy shit, Bilbo, but the man's a nut case. He's got a serious hard on for the Durin family – that was intriguing. He's convinced they have several things from what he keeps calling his House. Do you have any way of finding out where exactly Thorin's grandfather found that stupid stone? And if he has anything else from the same place?_

_I've been doing some research into the museum in Albania as well. There are two or three which might be interested – I mean, they're all interested, but there are a couple of museums which are specifically focused on archeology in Albania._

_Let me know when you get more information about it. What's it called, again?_

_And how's the writing going? I mean, that _is_ why you pay me._

_Nori  
_

Bilbo groaned. "Writing? Shit." He rubbed his eyes and sighed. "I have no idea how to find out where the fucking stone came from."

_To: UndergroundMusic_  
From: ProfBBaggins  
[forwarded message] 

_Hey,_

_Do you know how we can find out where your grandfather got that stone? And if he had a gold cup? I've included Nori's email._

_One of the FBI agents was in my class this morning. I think one of my students thinks he cute._

_See you tonight. What's for dinner?_

_Bilbo  
_

Bilbo sat for a minute, looking at his computer screen, then sat back slowly. _I wonder …_ He picked up his bag and left the office, locking it behind himself. _I'm pretty sure he's still here._ He walked down the hall and around the corner and opened a door.

"Hey, Balin? Are you in?"

Balin looked up from his own laptop. A broad smile creased his face. "Ah, Bilbo. To what do I owe this honor?"

Bilbo slid into the seat in front of Balin's desk. "So, you know about Frodo being shot, and you know why, right?" At Balin's nod, Bilbo continued. "They _did_ find information in that old pier, information about Azog and his past, ah, activities. However, something else was in the packet. Do you remember there being a large white stone in Thror's house in Lysander when you were all younger?"

Balin looked grave. "I think so, but it wasn't something I'd have paid close attention to. Is it significant?"

"Yes, though not to the situation with Azog. Azog stole it from Thror, but that's the only way he's connected to it. The thing is, it _is_ connected to Smaug."

Balin sat up straight. "Now that's a name I hadn't expected to hear in this context. Just how is that charlatan involved?"

Bilbo huffed. "Well, he's convinced that the stone – it's called the Arkenstone, apparently. Anyway, Smaug's convinced the Arkenstone is a 'relic of his House', as he puts it. He's asking for it back, but we don’t have any proof that it was his to begin with."

"Not to mention that it's unlikely that he is descended from anything other than desperate poverty-stricken nobodies. His claim that he's Albanian royalty is preposterous." Balin's voice was sharp. 

"You know the story?" Bilbo couldn't keep up with who knew what story in Thorin's family.

"Know it? I was with Thror when he got the first letter. I read it. He's a disgusting piece of work, that Smaug. I'll lay you ten to a hundred that he's got a long string of abandoned names between here and whatever his real history is in Albania." Balin looked furious and suddenly Bilbo saw his resemblance to Dwalin. Under Balin's friendly grandfatherly face, he was just as fierce as his younger brother.

"You know, it might be helpful if you came to my house to talk to me and Thorin. We have an idea for how to deal with Smaug, but we need some background information first." He looked at his watch and stood up. "I've class in a few minutes. When can you come for dinner?"

Balin looked at him, his gaze piercing. "I can come tomorrow night, if that works for you?"

Bilbo nodded. "Absolutely. See you then."

Outside the office, Elladan stood, apparently looking at the display of old chemistry experiments and manuals. "Why's that guy got two forks shoved in a cork and balanced on an awl?"

Bilbo snorted. "Ah, the Two Forks experiment. I've no idea." He started down the hall and Elladan followed, glancing back down the corridor. 

"Who's that girl?"

Bilbo started laughing and Elladan looked away, his cheeks a little pink. "Oh," Bilbo said, "her name is Fatima and she's one of the brightest kids in my classes. The rest you'll have to find out for yourself."

The afternoon class was uneventful, then Bilbo trotted off to his lab, still trailing his tall leather clad shadow. When the day was over, Elladan walked Bilbo to his car. 

"Are you coming, or is it shift change?" 

Elladan shrugged. "I've got to find out if anything else has come up. We'll be around, even if you don't see us." He walked away and Bilbo shook his head. 

At home, Bilbo heard from Frodo that Thinde had spent some of the day in the school office, and then had disappeared.

"But he told me to call him Erestor," Frodo said, sounding excited. 

After dinner, while Frodo was in his room purportedly doing homework, Bilbo told Thorin what he'd heard from Balin. Thorin sat back in his chair, his expression curious. "I wonder," he said, "what else is hiding in our history." 

"What I wonder," Bilbo said, "is where the provenance is for that damned stone. Do you think Thror kept information about it?"

Thorin stared at him, but Bilbo thought he wasn't seeing him. After a long moment, Thorin said slowly, "If he had anything, it's at my father's house."

Bilbo's lips twisted. "We're not likely to get it, then, are we?"

Thorin's gaze sharpened; he was looking directly at Bilbo, now. A smile grew across his face. "I don't know. I'd bet it's in the old shed, out back. My father doesn't get out there at all. I could have Dwalin go by and root around."

"Wouldn't your father notice Dwalin breaking into a shed on his property?"

"Dwalin's got a key. Some of the band's old stuff is stored there. Hell, Dad probably would be thrilled to have him visit." He grinned, sudden and sharp. "I'll text him and get him to swing by."

Bilbo checked his email one last time before bed. 

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: BellaBaggins_

_Dear One,_

_It's been ages since we've seen you. Why don't you and Frodo come visit this weekend? He can bring Sam, if he wants to come._

_I love you,_

_Mom  
_

Bilbo rubbed his forehead. 

_To: BellaBaggins  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Mom,_

_Thorin's been staying with us until things calm down. We'd love to come and visit – is it okay with you if Thorin comes along as well?_

_Bilbo  
_

After a moment, Bilbo shook his head.

_To: BellaBaggins  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Mom, I nearly forgot, but there are FBI agents watching us, so they'd have to come along as well. At least one of them. Maybe we should put off any visits for now.  
_

The next day he saw Thinde in a car in the next lane as he drove to Lorien. Thinde pulled up ahead of him at the side of the tree lined turn to Lorien's front gate and rolled his window down as Bilbo pulled up next to him.

"We won't be following you onto the grounds of Lorien," he said, smiling. "We know the people here and you're in no danger. Tell Haldir I said hi, and that I can see Rumil's little tree stand there." 

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "I'm not your messenger boy, Thinde."

Thinde's smile widened into a grin. "Call me Erestor. I'll see you when you're done here."

In the cafeteria at lunch time, Bilbo was startled when Haldir slid into the chair on the other side of his little table. 

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Haldir methodically moved his dishes off his tray to the table, then looked up at Bilbo. "I was here to ask you that. Why are the FBI watching you?"

Bilbo shook his head. "I – the man who shot Frodo turns out to be part of a family which is under investigation. One of the family members has an online following who are willing to stalk people and, possibly, do worse, so the FBI is keeping an eye on us."

Haldir finished his soup. "Ah, the Gogol family. Perhaps this will be their final attempt and they'll be destroyed."

Bilbo stared at him. "Does _everyone_ except me know what's going on?"

Haldir set his fork aside. "The Gogol family has been an agent of destruction and ruin for several generations, now, and it's past time for them to be brought to an end. You have led a very sheltered life until now, and have not had reason to be involved." He stood, gathering his empty dishes. "I will inform Rumil that he needs to move the tree stand, and possibly to increase the security patrols around the perimeter of the campus." He paused. "Next time you are involved in a situation like this, please come to us first. Dr Nenya will never turn you away." He pivoted and strode away, his long hair flicking the air behind him.

Bilbo stared after him and deliberately closed his mouth. _What the fuck is going on?_


	98. Ninety Eight – It's Like Being Followed By Enthusiastic Puppies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balin has some interesting things to say and then everyone gets to go visit Hobbiton!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, you guys, if this is less coherent than usual, it's because I've been up for about 36 hours straight. I'm visiting New England for a week (friends and family and gorgeous views) and I've been up since 5:30 am on Thursday morning Pacific time. It's now 12:10 am SATURDAY morning, Eastern time. Ugh.

In his flet, Bilbo sat down at his desk, still a bit taken aback by Haldir's statements.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: BellaBaggins_

_The _FBI??_ What IS going on down there? _

_We expect you promptly on Friday for dinner. You and Frodo and Thorin and the agents. How many are there? They'd better have answers, is all I can say._

_Your father's out gathering mushrooms. I'll use the dangerous ones, if I have to._

_Mom  
_

Bilbo buried his face in his hands. 

On his way home, he stopped at Safeway to shop for dinner. In the bread aisle, he called Thorin to find out what Balin might like to eat. After a few minutes in which Thorin was completely unhelpful, Bilbo gave up. _I'll make chicken tikka and rice._ He grabbed a six pack of cider from the pre-cooled beer rack and tossed a Snickers bar on the conveyer belt at the last minute.

"I can't believe you eat that," someone said behind him. They set down a large bottle of grapefruit juice, three large bags of variously flavored potato chips, a box of cans of Coke, and an apple.

Elrohir smiled at him over Erestor's shoulder and, carefully taking a divider, placed his own shopping – three bottles of very green juice, a bag of apples, gluten-free crackers, and organic goat cheese – on the belt behind Erestor's food.

Bilbo closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, "You guys are crap at being stealthy, did you know that?"

They both laughed, but Bilbo noticed that Elrohir was actually facing so that he could see the part of the store Erestor wasn't facing. 

After they'd all paid, and on the way to his car, Bilbo asked, "Are all of you going to be at my house tonight? I've a guest coming for dinner, but I need to tell you that you're all three invited to my mother's house for the weekend."

Erestor looked delighted, but Elrohir just raised one eyebrow.

Bilbo snorted. "I know, but I told my mom that you guys are watching us for now. We're going up there this weekend and she said to bring you. And you really don't want my mother mad at you."

Erestor gave him a snappy salute. "Will do!"

"What? Make his mother mad?" Elrohir asked, his arms crossed and both eyebrows raised now. 

"Of course not, I'd _never._ " Erestor said, pressing a hand on his chest. " Insult the great Belladonna Took, what do you take me for?"

Bilbo leaned back against the car and rubbed his forehead. "How do you know my – never mind. I don't know if I want to know."

Elrohir leaned in and whispered. "My brother'll flip out when he hears we're going to visit her house. He has all her books. Even the recent ones." He grinned, and Bilbo could see that he was as mischievous as his twin. "He tells the store clerks that he's got younger cousins, but it's a lie. They're all for him." 

At home, Bilbo found Thorin in the back yard, watering the plants and staring thoughtfully into nothing. 

"I think the carrots are wet," Bilbo said.

"Oh!" Thorin turned the water off. "How was Loreal?"

Bilbo laughed and hugged him. "Weird. I found out that the head of security knows our pet agents and that he thinks I should have come to them for protection against Azog. And, even stranger," he continued, as they walked back into the kitchen, "he knew all about Azog and his family. _And_ , my mom's invited us all up for the weekend."

Thorin stopped. "I'll, uh, see you on Monday, then?"

Bilbo looked over his shoulder. "Why? Oh, can you start some rice? Use one of the pilau packets in the cabinet next to the rice bin?"

Thorin shuffled around in the cabinet, muttering, "Pilau, pilau," under his breath. When he'd found it, he said, "Well, if you and Frodo are going up to Hobbiton, I guess I'll go back to my house and see if I can talk to Dwalin about whether or not he's going to be able to get anything from my father's house."

Bilbo stopped cutting up chicken and turned around. "You don't want to come?"

"No, I do, but …" Thorin swirled the rice as he washed it.

"Because she invited you specifically. And the agents."

"Ah." Thorin hit the Start button on the rice maker and stared at the glowing yellow light. "When's Balin going to get here?"

Bilbo turned back to the chicken. "I'm not sure, but I think around seven."

Over dinner, Balin kept them all entertained with stories about his lecture series – which he'd begrudgingly extended to the entire quarter. Once the adults had moved to the living room and Frodo was cleaning up in the kitchen, Balin's voice lost its previous geniality. 

"I have been thinking about Smaug and trying to remember everything I can. I heard about the letter – Thror had picked up the mail from the post office after he and Istar had been away somewhere and was sorting it while talking to me about something in my schooling." Balin stroked his beard. "I remember how angry he was at the letter. That's, ah…" His cheeks pinked and he looked away. "He didn't offer it to me to read, but crumpled it up and tossed it on his desk, then stormed off to the wet bar in his office."

Thorin smiled, wistfully. "That sounds like Grandfather." 

Balin smiled back, a similar look on his face. "He was a character, wasn't he? Anyway, I read the letter – I wanted to know what had made him so angry." He shrugged. "It was a bizarre mixture of wheedling and threatening. He mentioned there being several items he wanted. I think the Arkenstone was one of them, although he didn't call it by that name." 

"What did he call it?" Bilbo asked, pushing a plate with the last of the scones closer to Balin.

"I don't think he knew it had a name. He referred to it as a white stone, a jewel like the Koh-I-Noor or the Great Mogul." He stared at the blank looks on Bilbo and Thorin's faces, and sighed. "Those are two of the largest and purest diamonds ever found. The Koh-I-Noor's in the British crown."

Bilbo looked at Thorin, who was looking a little perplexed. "I'm pretty sure the Arkenstone's not a diamond," Bilbo said slowly. 

Balin shrugged. "I don't remember it clearly, and you've described it as a white stone."

Thorin nodded. "White, not clear, with flashes of color and … well, it almost looks like it's glowing. When the light catches it just right, it's mesmerizing." He cupped his hands. "And it's giant. Well," he made the space between his hands a bit smaller. "I mean, compared to a diamond."

Balin eyed Thorin's hands. "Where is it? Have you done any tests on it?"

"It's put away in a safe place," Bilbo said, surprised at how much he didn't want to have the stone anywhere near himself or Thorin. "But…" He paused, thinking hard. "Testing it's not a bad idea. I don't mean to chip a bit of it off," he said to Thorin's obvious relief. "But there are some non-invasive ways we can give it a bit of a probe. At the very least, we should have some good pictures taken of it."

Thorin leaned forward. "Do you think Thror saved that letter?"

Balin shrugged again. "I've no idea. I never saw it again."

Half an hour of fruitless re-discussion later, Balin stood to leave. At the door, he turned back. "You know," he said. "I've finally figured out what's been catching in my memory of that letter. He didn't sign it with the name Smaug. He mentioned it – or something like it – but he signed it with an entirely different name. Something eastern European, certainly, but a full name and I can't for the life of me remember it."

Later that night, after a long wordless time in which Thorin proceeded to overwhelm every single one of Bilbo's brain cells, Bilbo pulled Thorin close in and whispered, "You don't have to come to my parents' house if you don't want to. She did invite you specifically, though."

Thorin nodded, his face buried in Bilbo's hair. "Okay."

The next morning at breakfast, Bilbo told Frodo that they were going up to Hobbiton for the weekend. Frodo sulked his way to school and Bilbo sighed, then went out the kitchen door and over the back wall to Hamfast and Bell's house. Bell let him in and fed him freshly made apple cider cookies, then laughed at his request for Frodo to be able to bring Sam with him over the weekend.

"Of course he can go. I'll send along some of the muffins your young man likes, as well."

Bilbo blinked up at her from his seat at her kitchen table. " _My_ young man?"

She smiled at him. "He waters the garden very carefully every day and I've even heard him out there singing to the plants. Turns out he likes my apricot muffins."

"You made your … for _Thorin?_ " Bilbo set down his half-eaten cookie.

Bell propped her hands on her hips. "Yes, I did. And I do. He's a good man, Bilbo, even if he doesn't always do the right things." She nodded sharply at him and he grinned. "And you'd do well to remember that."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

When he scrambled back over the fence, he found Erestor's curious face hovering over the side wall. At Bilbo's unimpressed look, he said, "You weren't answering your door, but your car's in the driveway."

Bilbo sighed. "Go back to the front and I'll let you in." _It's like having an adult set of Merry and Pippin._

Elrohir and Elladan stood at the door, Erestor behind them, by the time Bilbo got there and opened it. 

"You're mom's really Belladonna Took?" Elladan looked transported and Bilbo tried not to smile at Elrohir's rolled eyes.

"Yes," Bilbo said, stepping aside. "Come in."

In the kitchen, over a pot of coffee – and a cup of green tea for Elrohir – Bilbo explained that his mother had invited his family up to visit, and when she'd been told about the FBI agents, she'd invited them as well.

Elrohir pulled out his phone. "I'll have to keep Lindir informed," he said and Bilbo sighed. 

"Yes, that makes sense. Fine." He waved a hand. "Now, I've got to catch up on work today, and Frodo's not out of school until nearly 4, so – wait. If you're all here, who's watching Frodo?"

Erestor and Elladan caught each other's eyes. "We wondered if you'd spot that. Lindir's taking a personal interest. He's there now. I'm supposed to pick up the job after lunch," Erestor said. 

"Ah." Bilbo rubbed his nose. "Alrighty then. I was hoping to pick him up from school and then just go directly to my mom's house. Shall I give you the address, or do you – " He broke off as Elladan turned his phone around with a GPS generated map of the drive. "You have it. Right. Shall I tell her we'll be there by 5:30?"

They left and Bilbo sank down in one of the kitchen chairs. "Alright. Lots to do," he muttered. "What's the most behind?" He wandered down the hall to his office, cup of coffee in hand, and buried himself in grading lab quizzes.

Some time later, he jumped at a knock on the open door. "What? Oh, yes, Thorin, do you need something?"

Thorin shook his head, smiling, but looking a little sad. "You don't have to always get things for me," he said, coming into the room with a plate carrying a roast beef sandwich, a large pile of potato chips and a ginger soda. "I thought you might want something for lunch."

Bilbo rubbed his face, then pressed his hands to the small of his back and stretched. "Oh god, yes, _thank you_. This looks wonderful." He took a large bite and washed it down with the soda. "I'll go pack up, after this, for me and Frodo. Sam's coming as well, and I thought we'd just pick them up from school and go straight from there."

Thorin produced a second plate of lunch from the hall and sat down in the room. "Sounds like a good plan. If you want to keep working, though, I can pack for you."

Bilbo eyed him. "Would you? That would really be great. I'm not keeping up with the work as well as I should this quarter."

By just after 3, Bilbo had finished all of the quizzes and had written half of the second midterm for the Inorganic Chemistry class. He shoved the rest of the unfinished work into his bag, then nearly ran into Thorin in the hall. 

"Hey there," Thorin said. "I've got all our stuff packed and I was coming to ask you about Frodo's stuff. What'll he want?"

Bilbo shoved his bag into Thorin's arms. "I'll get it. His room's a nightmare. While I'm gathering his stuff can you –" There was the sound of a sharp knock on the kitchen door and they froze.

Bilbo felt ridiculous sneaking down his own hallway and peeking around the door into the kitchen, but he couldn't make himself just swing around the door the way he had done so many times before. 

Hamfast waved cheerfully at him through the glass. He was holding a large plastic container filled with muffins and a beat up satchel slouched at his feet. Bilbo huffed at his own fears and opened the door.

"Don' wanna stay," Hamfast said, shoving the container into Thorin's hands. "Here's Sam's stuff, and those are for you to share, Bell says." Thorin's sheepish face made Bilbo and Hamfast laugh.

In the car, on the way to Hobbiton, Frodo leaned forward between the two back seats of Bilbo's car and asked, "Are the FBI agents letting us go on our own?"

Bilbo's hands squeezed tight on the steering wheel. "No," he said. "They're meeting us there." Thorin glanced at him, then, when Frodo had returned to his seat, nodded surreptitiously out his window. There was an old green Datsun truck two lanes over. Elrohir sat behind the wheel, his hair caught up in a messy knot. He never glanced Bilbo's way.

Bilbo felt a little silly driving up his parents' gravel driveway being followed, like so many motorized ducklings, by three non-descript old cars. Bella and Bungo were sitting on the bench outside their front door and they stood with large smiles as the cavalcade came to a halt. 

Before Bilbo had time to say anything, Elladan surged forward, a pile of books in his hands. "Mrs Took," he cried. "Will you sign my books?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [Koh-I-Noor](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koh-i-Noor) This is actually part of the Queen Mother's crown, but Balin's not a scholar of that sort of thing.
> 
> The [Great Mogul](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Mogul_Diamond)
> 
> And, of course, [apricot muffins](http://sugarapron.com/2014/06/23/apricot-yogurt-muffins-recipe/)
> 
> (And I know what I'm having the Arkenstone be made of in this universe. I don't think it's been done before. I hope you guys like it.)


	99. Ninety Nine – A Much Needed Nice Weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bag End is always a nice and safe place to be. They could use a break, don't you think?

Bilbo started laughing at his mother's expression. She'd taken several steps backwards at Elladan's excited advance and finally steadied at Bungo's hand at her back.

Elladan paused, halfway up the walk; he dropped his shoulders and clutched his books to his chest. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding sheepish. "I'm afraid I got a little excited."

Bella stepped forward, her face now wreathed in smiles. "Oh no, dear, I just wasn't expecting it. You must be one of the FBI agents."

"I am," Elladan said. He turned and glanced over his shoulder at his brother, who stood with one hand over his face. "I'm Elladan Peredhil and this is my brother, Elrohir." He tried to hold out his hand to shake Bella's, but couldn't without dropping the books. 

She smiled and shook his elbow, saying, "Bella Baggins, nice to meet you." Elrohir and Erestor joined the group and introduced themselves.

"Why don't you follow me inside," Bungo said, "and we'll show you where you'll be staying." They obediently trailed after him, but Erestor stopped at the door, replying to Bungo's raised eyebrow, "Oh, it's so nice out here. I thought I'd just watch the sky a bit." His eyes slid to Bilbo and Bungo nodded.

After everyone but Erestor was inside, Bella walked to Bilbo's car. Bilbo stood between his open door and the car, but Thorin hadn't gotten out yet. Frodo and Sam were pulling everyone's luggage from the back of the car.

Bella hugged Bilbo, then leaned down to look into the car. "Hello, Thorin," she said calmly. 

He nodded to her, then said, "Hello, Mrs Baggins." Bilbo could tell he was expecting to be told that he couldn't stay; his voice was muted and hesitant.

Bella propped her hands on her hips. "I know I've told you to call me Bella," she said, shaking her head and standing up. "Now come on. I've made several cakes and I don't want to let those giant young men eat them all."

She led the way into the house, laughing at something Sam showed her on his phone. Bilbo closed his door, then checked the back of the car. The boys had gathered up everyone's bags, even his and Thorin's, and were dragging them all behind them. 

Thorin got out of the car slowly. "I can still find someplace else to stay," he said, "if you think it would be better."

Bilbo hugged him. "I think that Mom would be more upset if you left. Come inside. Let's see if there's any seed cake."

Bungo showed the agents to their rooms while Frodo and Sam dropped Bilbo and Thorin's things in the hallway. Bilbo sighed and put his bag over his shoulder; before he could pick up any of Thorin's bags, Thorin lifted them. 

"What's in that large case?" Bilbo asked, walking down the hall to his room, Thorin quietly padding behind him. 

"I brought the harp," Thorin said, smiling a little at Bilbo's happy glance. "Where do you think I'm supposed to be staying?"

"You'll be staying where you always stay," Bella said firmly, pointing to Bilbo's room. "Now put down your things and come into the dining room. What did you say about a harp?"

Thorin meekly put his bags down and followed her out of the room again. Bilbo stopped for a minute and rubbed his face, wondering if his hopeful statement about things turning out okay would actually happen.

"She'll come around," Bungo said, leaning into the room. "He's a good guy and she'll get over her pique."

"Thanks, Dad," Bilbo said. "Is there seed cake?"

That evening, after a large dinner which the FBI agents all praised – making Bella blush pink – Frodo and Sam disappeared into their room while the rest of the group went to the living room to talk. Thorin brought his harp and sat near the door; Elladan sat on the couch next to Bella and Elrohir perched on the arm of the couch behind him. 

"So, first of all," Bella said, "are you related to the man who Frodo is – " 

"He's our father," Elrohir said, "but we're not here because of that. We really are FBI agents and when this case came through our office –" 

"He means when this part of the case came in, we've been chasing that asshole Azog for a lot longer," Erestor interrupted. 

"Right," Bella said. "That's another part I'm confused about. Why is the FBI involved with a shooting in Syracuse? I mean, he's my grandson, sort of, so I'm happy for him to be protected, even after the fact, but surely this isn't something the FBI normally does."

"That's correct," Elrohir replied. "In this situation, there are things we can't really discuss. However, the FBI has been interested in the Gogol family for many years regarding their business dealings as well as a few other, ah, issues and events."

Bilbo sucked in a breath, something suddenly clearer. "You do kidnappings, don't you?"

Erestor looked at him, and his face was hard. "We do. And we take them very badly, especially when they're young children.”

Thorin, who'd been quietly plucking at the harp strings to tune it, pulled one too hard and it twanged in the short silence. 

Bilbo watched his face, then stood up. "I think it's time we went to bed. You can all stay up, of course." He turned to Elrohir. "You can tell my parents anything you'd tell me."

In bed, Bilbo curled up against Thorin. "What that man did was not your fault. His actions are _his_ , not yours, no matter what he tried to make you think."

In the morning, Bella took the Peredhil twins to her studio to sketch them – she said something about making them into small frogs – and Bilbo took Thorin into town to wander around the antique shops downtown. Bungo stayed home, offering to keep an eye on Sam and Frodo, although Bilbo was sure they wouldn't leave their room; they'd set up a long-distance session of their game over Skype. 

They worked their way through the two small shops, finding small trinkets and showing them to each other. Bilbo bought a green glass cake stand with a clear dome and stood chatting with the shop owner as he wrapped it up in old newspapers. When that was nearly done, Thorin came around the end of a rack of old quilts holding a ship in a bottle. 

"Dis would like this," he said, setting it on the counter. "I'll have to get started on holiday gifts."

Bilbo turned it slightly with his finger. "It's in good shape. Does she collect them?" He glanced at the shop owner, who was staring at Thorin. "Oh, yes of course. Odo, this is my boyfriend, Thorin Durin. Thorin, this is my cousin, Odo Proudfoot."

Odo opened his mouth, peeked at Bilbo, then closed it again. After a moment, Thorin said, "Pleased to meet you."

Odo coughed, then said, "Mutual, I'm sure. Are you wanting to buy that?"

"I couldn't see a price," Thorin said. "But my sister would love it."

Odo looked at Bilbo again, then his shoulders slumped. "I can give it to you for ten dollars."

Outside, their purchases wrapped and tucked into an old plastic bag which proclaimed "Happiness is shopping at Piggles", Thorin said, "That's a great price."

"Yeees," Bilbo sighed. "He'd been about to try to charge you the Outsider price, but not when I'm around." He sighed again. "Family. Can't do anything with them. Let's see what's for lunch at home."

Back at Bag End, Bungo had set out sandwich supplies on the dining room table. Erestor walked in five minutes behind them and descended upon the table, happily making himself a large pastrami sandwich. 

"This is great," he said after eating half of it. "Where do you get the pastrami?"

"I make it," Bungo said, making himself a pastrami and roast beef sandwich. "It's not hard and once you make your own, you can't go back to store bought." They descended into a discussion of home curing meat and Bilbo shrugged his shoulders.

He brought two sandwiches, a pot of tea, and a plate full of cookies to the living room, where Thorin was checking his phone.

"So," he said, smiling and taking one of the sandwiches. "Dwalin said he's got a bunch of stuff from my father's house. It'll be here soon, he says. By the end of next week, certainly."

"What? He's shipping it? That'll cost a fortune." 

Thorin tapped at his phone, then dropped it in his pocket. "Bilbo, if it means we can get rid of Smaug as well as Azog, then it doesn't matter what it costs. It's worth it."

Frodo came into the room and dropped onto the couch. "Hey, where'd you guys get the food?"

They all spent the afternoon walking in the forested areas behind Bag End. Bilbo and Thorin trailed after Frodo and Sam, who were animatedly discussing some sort of raid on one of Pippin's bases in their game. After a while, Bilbo turned to Thorin. 

"That whole thing with the bridge piers could have gone so much worse," he said. "I don't just mean the obvious. Just … listen to them. They're making plans to sneak in the 'back way' through what sounds like a thousand evil orcs in order to drop the magical whatsit into a cauldron. Can you imagine what they'd have done if the stuff you guys were looking for was hidden somewhere less public?"

That evening, they gathered in the living room again. Thorin played on his harp for a while, then the agents left, saying they were going to bed for the night. Bilbo caught a glimpse of them discussing something in the hallway, but ignored them. They were adults and could figure out whatever it was without his help.

"Look, Bella," Thorin said, setting the harp down at his feet and leaning forward. "I know I've fucked up badly and I'm really sorry. I didn't know what to do and… I know I'm not really a good person for Bilbo to be with –"

"How dare you say that?" Bella's voice was very sharp. "You're perfect. For him and for us. You've nothing to be ashamed of." She stood and gave him a hug, patting his back gently.

Bilbo could see his father across the room, his face covered with a hand, laughing silently. _Well, I guess that answers that question._

Thorin went to get ready for bed a few minutes later and Bella turned to Bilbo. "Help me clear up?"

They gathered dishes onto trays and brought them to the kitchen, where Bungo rinsed them before filling the dishwasher. When the living room was free of dishes, Bella hugged Bilbo. "I'm sorry that I was sharp with your Thorin," she said. "He didn't react well, but he seems to be a lot better about things now." She kissed his forehead. "Now go to bed. You've a long drive tomorrow."

In the morning, they packed the cars, then went inside for a large breakfast. Elrohir stared at the table filled with food, then turned to Bungo. "How do you all stay fit? I'd be too big to walk inside a week if I ate like this all the time."

Bella just laughed. "Have another scone. Would you like to bring some home with you?"

When she hugged Bilbo goodbye, she whispered, "Tell me if you find anything in the old papers about Smaug, okay?"

The drive home was filled with more planning for Sam and Frodo's invasion. Thorin spent some of the time answering emails on his phone and smiling. He wouldn't say what he was smiling at when Bilbo asked, only rolling his eyes toward the back seat in answer.

"Okay," he said, at Bilbo's house when the boys had gone off to start a load of laundry. "So, Dwalin's got the stuff here. He brought it to my house. I'll start sorting it while you're at work tomorrow and if I find anything really interesting, I'll bring it home to show you."

Bilbo turned from contemplating his own large pile of laundry. "What, it's here already? But …" 

Thorin just shrugged. "I'll ask him tomorrow."

Bilbo checked his email at lunch the next day.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: Nori@ConsortBooks_

_Guess what? You'll never guess, but give it a try? I got Smaug an interview with someone from the New Yorker and gave her the things we'd like him to talk about. It's going to be good publicity for his books as well, but that's not important. The interview's soon and I expect it'll come out in next month's magazine._

_Nori  
_

Bilbo sat back in his chair. "I don't care if he gets a thousand sales from the article if it can stop him from being such a fucking asshole."

Something moved in his peripheral vision; he turned to see Shelob standing on her hind four legs and waving the front ones at him. He waved back, feeling a little silly, then opened his next email. 

_To: ProfBBaggins_  
From: UndergroundMusic  
[1 attachment] 

_Dearest,_

_You should come and see this. There's SO MUCH. I'm sort of horrified at how much of this should be in museums. We've only opened a couple of boxes. Come to my house for dinner?_

_Thorin  
_

Bilbo clicked on the picture and started laughing. There were boxes all over Thorin's living room.


	100. One Hundred – Why Don't Scientists Keep Good Notes?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a hard week with lots of work and little time for fun, but at least Bilbo gets to help young people.

Bilbo sighed as he worked out another problem for the Inorganic midterm. "Okay, so I can use the set of true false questions I worked out last year but one, if I add in the …" he muttered, shuffling through the papers on his desk. "Where's the – right. Here it is." His right hand tapped at his calculator, while his left rubbed his eyes.

"Hey, Bilbo? What're you still doing here?" Beorn stuck his head in the door. He appeared to be carrying a pygmy goat in his briefcase.

Bilbo looked up, blinking blearily. "What? What time is – oh shit." He stood up and started shoving what he'd been working on into his bag. "Thanks, Beorn. I owe you one."

Beorn smile was nearly hidden behind his thick beard. "Oh, don't thank me. It was Mushroom, here, who noticed the light." He tickled the goat under its chin.

Bilbo stopped moving and blinked at them. "You named your goat _Mushroom?_ "

Beorn nodded. "She loves them." He waved and turned away. "See you Wednesday."

Bilbo drove home and parked without paying much attention. At the door, a shape loomed up and he stepped back, suddenly sharply aware of how dark the street was. 

"Working later than usual?" Elrohir said, arms crossed.

Bilbo sagged. "Yes. Midterms are coming up and then finals are just after them. I've a ton of work to do." 

Inside, Bilbo threw together a rough version of spaghetti bolognese and cut a loaf of sour batard in half to make garlic bread before starting the water for pasta. While he waited for the pasta to cook, he sat at the kitchen table reading through lab reports. As Frodo served himself a large bowlful, Bilbo asked Elrohir if he wanted any.

"I'll get some later, if that's okay. It's my turn to lurk in your front courtyard," he said, making Bilbo chuckle. 

"Well, I'll be sure to leave some of the garlic bread for you as well," Bilbo replied.

After dinner, Bilbo holed up in his office.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Darling,_

_Dwalin and I have gone through the boxes and sorted them. Roughly, I mean. We haven't gone through all the papers – there's so MUCH, Bilbo, and it should all really be in museums. Or with some sort of archive. Even his notes might be useful for something._

_Anyway, it's sorted into basic categories and we're filthy. I think tomorrow we'll start going through things more closely and taking notes. It's a good thing Dwalin's good with numbers, huh?_

_How were classes? How's Frodo? I miss you._

_Thorin  
_

Bilbo smiled and patted the screen. "I miss you, too." He typed a quick response, then went back to writing tests and grading lab reports. 

_If I can get the finals well started,_ he thought, sipping his now cold tea several hours later, _things will be easier later._ He got up and made another pot of tea, making sure to put his mother's special cozy on the pot before bringing it, and several slices of pie, back into his office.

Tuesday morning he spent staring at his laptop in his flet at Lorien, working to make the data they'd been gathering into clear charts. He ate lunch in the cafeteria, head bent over the reports he'd been working with to make the charts. After lunch, he locked everything up in the flet and drove across the bridge to Belvedere.

He pulled into the courtyard and sat in the car for a minute after he turned it off, just looking up at the bulk of Thorin's house in the afternoon sun. He could hear voices coming from both houses and he smiled as he walked up the path to the door.

"Just because you think it's pretty doesn't mean it shouldn't go in the box with the rest of them." Dwalin's voice came clearly through the wooden door.

Bilbo reached up to knock, but Thorin pulled the door open before his hand made contact. 

"Oh shove it," Thorin yelled over his shoulder, then he beamed at Bilbo and gave him a big hug. "You won't believe all the shit my Grandda kept. It's insane. I mean, I knew archaeology was acquisitive, but this is amazing." 

He dragged Bilbo inside, waiting excitedly for Bilbo to drop his bag and hang up his coat, then tugged him into the living room.

Bilbo stared, eyes moving slowly from the table overflowing with small figurines, past the wooden boxes with wood shavings spilling out of them, over the stacks and stacks of papers and folders and notebooks, and then to Dwalin's delighted face. 

"Bilbo!" He carefully set aside the vase he'd been holding and slid the notebook he'd been reading from next to it on the couch, then stood and came to give Bilbo a hug. "How're you? I'm glad to hear that Frodo's doing well."

Bilbo smiled back. "He's much better, thanks, and I'm doing well. You?" He couldn't keep his eyes on Dwalin – they were drawn back to the pile of leather notebooks he'd seen stacked next to one of the armchairs.

Dwalin laughed. "It's amazing, isn't it?" He threw an arm around Thorin's shoulders. "I don't know why it took us so long to do this. We should've done it ages ago."

Thorin shook his head, smiling a bit ruefully. "It's going to be a mountain of work," he said. "Let's have something to eat, first – are you hungry? I got that cheese you liked and I've got some nice beer from up in Sonoma, or would you like wine?"

Bilbo stuck his hands in his pockets, smiling up at Thorin. "If I'm going to be any use going through this stuff, I should think coffee's the best option, right?"

They cleared a space on the coffee table for a large pot of coffee and a tray of snacks, then settled down on chairs.

"That stack over there," Dwalin gestured, "is all little stone figures. Mostly of people, but there seem to be a couple of animals. Or, animal-people." He rubbed his nose, then pointed to the boxes filled with wooden shavings. "They came from those boxes, although we found a couple wrapped up in the papers." Before Bilbo had a chance to say anything, Dwalin lifted his hand. "Don't worry, we kept them together."

Bilbo laughed softly. "Right. And so what's this stuff?"

Thorin picked up one of the notebooks. "I think those were my Grandda's notes, but these were my grandmother's." His fingers gently caressed the cover.

Bilbo looked around the room again before sighing deeply and turning back to Dwalin and Thorin. "Okay, so where do we start?"

"We've been going through the papers," Dwalin said, "but it's slow. The handwriting's a bit hard to read." 

Thorin had the notebook open now, and was peering at something in it. "I think she was writing in Farsi or something. It's definitely not English." 

Bilbo picked up a notebook and opened it carefully. It smelled of dust, and of mildew, and of something indescribably old. He ran a finger gently along the edges of the paper and looked at the page. The page on the left was filled with cramped writing – clearly done with a dip pen – and that on the right had a sketch of something that Bilbo assumed was the wall of a building. There were several arrows pointing from the accompanying text to parts of the sketch. 

The language, unfortunately, wasn't one Bilbo could read. 

"Huh," he said, opening the notebook to the first page. "Well, she seems to have been sensible, your grandmother. I can't read the actual notes, but she's put the date and a place in the front of this notebook. It's from –" He peered at the date. "1930."

They moved through the notebooks more quickly, then, simply organizing them by date, to begin with. Thorin had bought boxes; he wrote a year on each box and they filled the boxes with everything they could find dated that year. Soon, all of the notebooks – both from Thorin's grandfather and grandmother were filed in order, and relatively quickly the bundled papers were organized as well. 

Bilbo sighed, looking at the stacks of loose notes. "I can't do more without sustenance," he said. He glanced at his watch. "It's nearly seven, no wonder I'm tired." He yawned, then turned to look in the direction of the kitchen. "It smells good in there – are you cooking?"

Thorin nodded, from a position on the floor near the last box they'd been working with. "I started a white bean soup this morning. I thought we might want something – and if not, I thought Kili might want some."

Dwalin twisted his back. "It's not that I don't love you two," he said, "but I'm going out for a bit. I want to see something younger than 100 years old." He grinned at Thorin, who was scrambling to his feet. "See you tomorrow."

Bilbo and Thorin ate dinner in the kitchen, sitting at the little table looking out over the back garden. They were mostly silent, only speaking about the food; Bilbo stood to get a second bowl of soup and collapsed back into his chair. 

"I'm beat," he said. "This is humiliating. I'm younger than 100 years old. Why am I so tired?"

Thorin, who'd been leaning his chin on his hand, smiled at him. "I don't know. You've been working for the past few days without much rest?"

Bilbo yawned at him and groaned. "All too true. And I can't even stay, I have class tomorrow."

"How long can you stay?" Thorin ran his finger around the mouth of his glass.

"Oh, I want to look at those statues," Bilbo said. "You're not getting rid of me quite that easily." He looked out the window for a minute, then sat forward. "And we should go through the notebooks to see if there's anything about the Arkenstone. I mean, that _is_ why we started this."

Thorin chuckled. "That keeps getting overwhelmed by the sheer mass of other things, doesn't it?" He stared into the living room. "I sort of wish I could keep something for myself. I mean, there's so much and …" 

Bilbo watched him. "I know this makes me sound terrible, but you know what? Sure, why not? Let's look up the statues and stuff, to see if there's anything … less valuable." At Thorin's sharp look, Bilbo snorted. "You know what I mean. If there's something rare or especially important, you can't keep it, but if there are known to be several hundred or thousand of a thing, then why not keep one?"

"Because they're not mine," Thorin said.

"True, but people do buy antiquities." Bilbo gathered their dishes and set them in the sink. "Come on, let's go look."

The statuettes were more varied than Bilbo expected. There were statues of people and some of what looked like muscular people with cat heads, and a few which were broken beyond easy identification. Carefully, Bilbo began to sort them by subject, making sure to keep any papers with their originals. 

After a moment, Thorin started sorting as well; soon they'd gone through everything. There were only about twenty objects, in the end. Eight of them were small statues of a winged woman with bird feet – they were in various states of repair and appeared to be made of fired clay. There were a couple of a seated man holding something in his lap, and another couple of animal headed people. 

Thorin held one of the bird-footed women and gently ran a finger along her head-dress. "There's a larger one of these in Grandda's back yard. I always wondered about her."

Bilbo pulled out his phone and, peering at the figurine in Thorin's hands, tapped a search into Google.

"Bird footed woman, Mesopotamia brings up – " He broke off and stared at the phone, then up at Thorin. "What did you say your grandmother's name was?"

"Istar, why?"

Bilbo turned the phone to face Thorin. "Because that's Ishtar you've got there."

Thorin's fingers closed gently around the statuette. 

***

The next day, Bilbo yawned his way through classes, amusing himself by watching Fatima trying to encourage Elladan – who still appeared baffled by her interest. After lecture, she waited until everyone was gone and whispered to Bilbo, "He's not going to do well on the test. Why did you let him in the class if he's so poorly prepared?"

Bilbo kept a smile off his face by sheer force of will. "Have you asked him?"

She shrugged, looking at her shoes. "He says he's just a bit behind, but he doesn't know anything about the back-side attacks."

Bilbo flicked his gaze up and caught Elladan hiding just past the door. The image he got of the man being earnestly quizzed on back-side attacks by Fatima made Bilbo snort. Fatima glared at him, then started laughing, herself. 

"Okay," she said, "I was _not_ asking him about _that_!" She hitched her pack up on her shoulder. "But really, I'm surprised the department let him add the class so late."

Elladan trailed Bilbo to his working lab and sat, looking hangdog, at one of the benches. "So, uh," he said and Bilbo started laughing so hard he had to lean against the desk.

"Yeah, I think you should just tell her," he said, when he stopped laughing. "She's a bright young lady and she won't hold your job against you."

Elladan grimaced. "But we can't afford to tell anyone. If it gets back to Azog that we're keeping an eye on you…"

Bilbo shook his head. "Kid, she's got you made already as not a real student. She's not one of the Orc Horde and I’m pretty sure that if you just tell her directly, she won't tell anyone else." He watched expressions chase themselves across Elladan's face, then sighed. "Would it help if we talked to her together?" 

Bilbo emailed Fatima, asking her if she could meet him in his office early the next morning. "I'm going to give the Inorganic kids their midterm after I eat lunch – you can come if you want," he said when he was done with the email.

The next morning, he drove to school and parked near the science building. He saw Fatima walking up the stairs; her hijab was a dark red today. He caught up to her on the fourth floor and unlocked his office, propping the door open. 

She sat down in the chair next to his desk, her face anxious. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Just then, Elladan trotted in, breathing heavily. "Sorry I'm late," he said. "My alarm didn't go off."

Bilbo snorted. "Shut the door behind you, please?"

Elladan pulled the door shut, then sat down in the extra chair which was pushed against the wall. He tried to settle, but the chair kept wobbling. "What's wrong with this chair?" 

Bilbo covered his eyes. "I'm sorry, I forgot. My old office mate sabotaged it." He pointed at the chair Beorn usually sat it. "Take that one. He won't be in for a few hours."

Fatima looked back and forth between them, clearly more anxious. "I …" she started.

Bilbo smiled at her. "You're not in trouble, Fatima. This isn't about anything to do with school. Elladan just needs to tell you something." He gestured at Elladan, who looked stiff.

"I'm not a student," he said.

"Well, yes," Fatima said. "That's obvious –"

"I'm an FBI agent."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here's the research. I love this stuff, you have no idea.
> 
> First, [here's](http://nmnh.typepad.com/.a/6a01156e4c2c3d970c01676950781b970b-popup) an example of old field notes. [Here's](http://antiquity.ac.uk/projgall/pjsmith338/) another. (The first is from [this](http://nmnh.typepad.com/fieldbooks/botany/) fascinating blog.)
> 
> Second, at the time that Istar was a young girl, three languages were commonly spoken in her home country of Turkey: Turkish, Persian (Farsi), and Arabic. As a very well educated woman, she would have spoken all three, as well as English and possibly at least one Romance language. 
> 
> Third, the statuette is based on [this](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burney_Relief) very famous bas relief. The common representation of this figure as Lilith is most likely deeply incorrect and based strongly on historical anti-jewish feeling. The current belief is that this figure is of [Ishtar](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ishtar), although (as it says in the first article linked), a few people think it's Ishar's sister, Erishkigal.
> 
> There was, apparently, a brisk business of souvenir statuettes and trinkets sold to tourists *at the time*, which means there were hawkers in 1300 BC selling little terracotta statues in front of the big temples- somehow this just makes me very happy.


	101. One Hundred One - You Never Can Tell What People Are Going To Think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fatima's reaction isn't what Bilbo or Elladan expected, not at all. And then Bilbo has another reminder that he and Thorin are from very different places.

Fatima crossed her arms. "Like hell you are."

Bilbo put a hand over his face. 

"I am," Elladan exclaimed, reaching under his hoodie and fishing around. Bilbo saw Fatima flinch before Elladan produced a leather wallet, which he flipped open to reveal an ID badge and gold shield. "See?" Elladan said. "Special Agent Elladan Peredhil." He shoved the wallet toward Fatima, who took it, looking intrigued, if reluctantly.

"So, why are you taking Professor Baggins' class?" She flicked the gold shield with her fingernail, then pulled it slightly away from the leather mounting. "Is this to do with the threats he was getting?"

Bilbo and Elladan both stared at Fatima, who lifted her chin slightly and closed the wallet with a slight slap. 

"What?" she asked. "I _saw_ one. It was in lab and he was reading it." She looked sheepish as the faced Bilbo. "I shouldn't have read it, I know, Professor, but it was written so large. And you looked really upset."

Elladan reached out and lifted his wallet from her hands. "How many people did you tell about this?"

"No one!" She looked shocked. "I wouldn't tell anyone anything bad about Professor Baggins!" Elladan stared at her, but she crossed her arms and glared back. "I wouldn't. If this is because I'm Muslim –"

Elladan recoiled and Bilbo sighed. "No, Fatima. We just thought it was a secret and now it looks like it might not be."

"Well, _I_ didn't tell anyone, so unless Mr Not Very Sneaky here did, then it should still be pretty secret." Fatima sounded stiff.

Elladan ran his fingers through his hair, angrily yanking at the rubber band keeping it in a pony tail. With a grunt, he pulled it out and tugged on his hair. Bilbo saw Fatima's cheeks go slightly pink and covered his smile with his hand. 

"Okay," Elladan said. "Dammit – Sorry, Fatima. So, we need to –" 

"I know how to fucking swear," she said sharply and Bilbo couldn't help laughing. 

"We need to …?" Bilbo said.

"We need to find out who knows about the threats and who might have known in advance." Elladan sighed. "If you didn't tell anyone," he gestured placatingly at Fatima, "and you didn't –"

"Ah," Bilbo said, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. "I did. I told Ori, my grad student, and Frodo's … friends know as well."

"What's Ori's name?" Elladan pulled out his phone and started typing.

"Kuningatarsson," Bilbo said. "K-u-n-i .. you know what, if you want to talk to him, surely it's easier if I just go get him. He'll be in the lab right now." Elladan nodded, squinting at his phone, and Bilbo stood up. "I'll be right back."

Fatima followed him out into the hallway and down to his lab without saying anything. When they were inside the lab, she turned to him, her face tense.

"Why _did_ you have me meet him, that agent?"

Bilbo lifted a hand toward her. "Hold on one second. Ori, can you go down to my office please, and talk to the man you'll find there? His name is Elladan Peredhil and he's an FBI agent."

Ori looked back and forth between Bilbo and Fatima, then nodded. "Sure thing, boss." He tucked the vivid green thing he'd been knitting back into his bag and slipped out the door.

"Now," Bilbo said, turning back to Fatima. "Some of this is my fault. I saw that Elladan was struggling with your help in class – he's not a chemist and he really isn't _in_ the class – and I thought it would be sensible to get all the explanations out of the way in private." He shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. "I didn't expect it would be anything other than amusing for all of us, really."

She crossed her arms and looked at her feet. Bilbo saw she'd worn sparkly flats that were the same color red as her hijab. "I see," she said slowly. "I guess I sounded a bit stupid."

Bilbo sank down into his chair. "Oh Fatima, no. The opposite, really – you made it clear that we've been … well, that the FBI agents have been pretty stupid about this. They didn't ask some pretty basic questions, and you're right, they didn't do any real work at trying to fit in here, so they fail on that count as well."

She laced her fingers together and tapped the toe of her shoe on a stain on the floor. "Do you think they could use some help?"

Bilbo smiled. "I think if you want to help Elladan, you can certainly offer. I don't want you doing anything that'll be dangerous, though."

Her brows drew together. "Because I'm a girl?"

He raised his own brows in response. "Because he's a federal agent and you're my favorite organic chemistry student."

She blushed bright pink and looked out the window. "Sorry," she muttered. "I just – "

Bilbo leaned forward. "This stuff is complicated, Fatima. I know that. Things which are easy for some people," he gestured at himself, "are much more difficult for others. This isn't fair – it's rather fucked up, to be honest – but pretending that it doesn't exist doesn't help." He held out a hand. "So, I want to say up front that if I ever say anything that sounds like I mean you can't do something because of your gender or religion or anything stupid like that, I want you to _call me on it._ Okay?"

She looked at his face, then his hand, for a long moment, then reached out and shook it. "It's a deal." She tucked her hands under the straps of her backpack and looked at the door. "So, uh, do you know if he's got a girlfriend?"

Bilbo snorted. "I don't know, but I'll bet he'd be willing to get to know you better. He did ask about you."

She brightened. "I could get his email, to help him with the investigation."

Bilbo nodded gravely. "That sounds reasonable. I need to go back to my office anyway, to get my bag before I go to work. You could get his card while I'm in there?"

In the car on the way to Lorien, Bilbo thought over the conversation and laughed out loud. _That was not what I was expecting._

While working through more data analysis at Lorien, Bilbo paused to get a cup of coffee and some pastries from the cafeteria. On the way back to his flet, he saw Haldir bowing in the door of Galadriel's office. Haldir held one hand in a fist over his heart, then stepped backward onto the walkway. He turned and, catching sight of Bilbo, nodded before disappearing into the trees. Bilbo watched him go, his mouth slightly open, then he shook his head and continued on his own way. _NOT your business. Not at all._

Back at his computer, he checked his email.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: UndergroundMusic_

_Hey,_

_So, I've been thinking. There's no way we can go through this all on our own. I think we should have an Archeology Party, with you and me and Dwalin and everyone else. He says Balin is still in town, is that true? It would be great to see him. Anyway, I think we should get the rest of the group to help us._

_What if you come over tomorrow and we spend the weekend going through everything we can.  
_

Bilbo stared at the screen, thinking hard. _If I spend the weekend there, will I have time to get the midterms graded?_ After a long second, he leaned back in his chair and said, out loud, "Fuck it."

_To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_I'm in. I'll leave the kids with Sam's parents, though. I don't think this is something they can really help with. I'll have to do work while I'm there, though._

__

An hour later, he rubbed his eyes and opened Gmail again.

_To: UndergroundMusic  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Get Dain to bring the damned stone. Maybe I can bring it to the school and get it identified.  
_

Friday morning, Bilbo packed an overnight bag as well as several containers of food into the back of his car. He carried a large container with scones and blueberry muffins over the back wall and handed it to Sam through Sam's kitchen door. "I'll be back on Sunday," Bilbo said, "and you guys can always text if you need something." Sam nodded; Bilbo could see Frodo rolling his eyes and laughed. "Okay, kids, have a good weekend."

When he pulled up in Thorin's courtyard, he found Fili standing at the top of the driveway. Fili grinned at him and pointed to the open garage door. "Park in there," he said, following Bilbo's car.

"Thorin figured you should leave your car in the back, here, since you'll be here the whole weekend. Everyone else will have to park wherever they find, but there's no need for you to be in the scrum." Fili grinned at Bilbo and swung the bag of pastry containers out of the car. 

"Everyone else?" Bilbo asked.

"Sure," Fili said, gesturing for Bilbo to lead the way into the house. "There's you and Thorin and Dwalin, of course, and me and Kili, and my mom. And then Thorin called Dain, so he's coming tomorrow, with his family, and Gimli and Legolas are supposed to be here by lunchtime today." Fili paused and grinned at Bilbo's face. "It's a party. Everyone's coming."

Kili poked his head around the kitchen door. "I just heard from Tauriel. She's going to be here for dinner. She said she'd be bringing something to eat. I hope it's the roast eggplant she made the other day."

"Is that your bag?" Thorin lifted Bilbo's overnight bag off his shoulder from behind him. "I'll just bring it upstairs," he smiled. "I think Dwalin's made another round of breakfast, I'll catch up with you in a minute."

Bilbo pressed his hand to Thorin's waist, then turned back to the kitchen, where someone was singing a very filthy sea chanty. "So, what's this I hear about breakfast?" he asked.

After a lively discussion over the fluffiest waffles Bilbo had ever eaten, with fresh fruit and jam and thick slices of Dwalin's home made bacon, they set up a set of 'stations' in the living room, each with a pile of blank notebooks. 

Bilbo opened his own laptop and settled next to one of the piles of loose notes. He saw a little camera on the table and picked it up. 

"Neat, isn't it?" Kili said, sitting down next to him. "Thorin got a bunch of those, so we don't have to use our phones. We've been working on a plan – one of us will take pictures of the whole page and then close ups of anything that looks important, and then the next person will record the date on the paper and anything sort of," he shrugged. "Identifying marks, you know, and then someone else can see if they can transcribe it in the notebooks."

Bilbo turned the camera over in his hands. "So, he just … bought what?" He looked around the room. "Twelve new cameras?"

Thorin sat down on the arm of the couch next to Kili. "Yes. They weren't expensive individually, and then when we're done with this, anyone who wants one can have one. They're waterproof."

Bilbo looked at him, feeling the weight of the difference between the life he was used to and the one that Thorin was familiar with. From the expression on Thorin's face, he was having a similar realization. 

Kili looked back and forth between them, then he sighed. "Bilbo, come and help me make some coffee, okay?" He grabbed Bilbo's wrist and stood up, dragging Bilbo behind him. In the kitchen, Kili started filling the electric kettle with water. When it was full, he set it on its base and turned it on. Then he turned to Bilbo with a serious expression so similar to Thorin's that Bilbo's heart stuttered.

"Look, Bilbo," Kili said. "I know that some of this looks really weird and extravagant to you. I mean, I get it, I do. We're used to having a lot more money than other people do, but … well, we don't usually spend it thoughtlessly. And in this case, it makes sense for every group to have a camera." He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "We thought about using our phones, but cameras still have slightly better recording ability and this way, all the photos will be the same, you know? We won't have to worry about someone using a phone that's got super low megapixels or not enough memory or something, and even though any museum or archive will want to take their own pictures, we'll have a clear record of our own, all good quality."

Bilbo nodded at the kettle. "The water's done. Are we making coffee, or was that an excuse?"

Kili jumped slightly and turned to the kettle, pouring the water into three french presses which were waiting on the counter. 

"That makes sense," Bilbo continued, "but it's still something I'm getting used to, the ability to just … spend thousands of dollars on something without thinking about it."

There was a small coughing sound from the door and they turned. Thorin was leaning on the doorjamb. "It was only about fifteen hundred dollars, in the end."

Bilbo nodded. "Divided by a dozen cameras …" He uncrossed his arms, feeling awkward. "That's cheap, if you do the math." He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Sorry, just there are still things I'm surprised by."

"Hey! Lemon tarts!" Kili had opened one of the containers Bilbo had brought. 

"How can you think about eating anything after that breakfast?" Bilbo asked while Thorin laughed. 

Kili grinned. "Oh, I'm not hungry now, but it's good to know what I have to look forward to."

There was a commotion in the living room; Gimli and Legolas had arrived and were walking towards the kitchen. Legolas carried a large pastry box.

"Now will you tell me what you've brought, you annoying beast?" Gimli said, trailing after him.

Legolas beamed at him as he set the box down on the kitchen counter. "No, they're for later. Come on, I want to see what that little statue was on the table. Hello Bilbo, nice to see you again."

Gimli groaned, but Bilbo could see his smile as he followed Legolas back to the living room.

"Well, shall we start?" Bilbo said. "I'll leave the photography to one of you two, and I'll do the transcription?"


	102. One Hundred Two – Steps Forward and Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sifting through old papers and stuff is fun, right? I mean, it's hard to read the old writing, everything smells slightly of mildew, and things can be so fragile you shouldn't touch them much, but there's the chance to see how people used to live and what they used to do.
> 
> And then the other shoe drops.

Bilbo leaned forward and took a careful sip of water, then put the glass back down on the table. A small notebook with crabbed writing filling the pages was propped up at Bilbo's left. He rubbed his eyes and went back to typing, sometimes peering closely at the book to make out what the words were. Across the room, he heard Gimli complaining about something and shook his head, smiling.

> "The upper west ridge continues descending to the right, turning roughly 60 degrees until it faces due east. The structure opens here, allowing sunlight to enter through what appears to be a large doorway."  
> 

Next to him, Thorin yawned and stretched carefully; he'd been hand transcribing the notebook on his lap. "Is it dinner time?" he asked.

Bilbo yawned in response and shrugged. "You're the one who said he was cooking something, surely it's your call." He slipped a sheet of plain paper into his notebook and closed it carefully. "But I'm certainly willing to stop for a while. This is exhausting." He rubbed his eyes. 

"Did I hear someone say 'dinner'?" Tauriel's voice floated over from nearer the windows. She and Gimli had ended up sketching and photographing the small statues and other objects. When she spoke, the whole room filled with groans and the shuffling sounds of people carefully setting things aside. 

"Oh god," Legolas said, "I might never be able to stand up again." He uncurled from where he'd been crouched, carefully working through the many small fragments they'd found, trying to set them into some sort of order. As Bilbo watched, he straightened, hands pressed to his lower back. Gimli grunted a laugh and walked over, pressing his thumbs into the the muscles Legolas had been rubbing and Bilbo felt his own back twinge in sympathetic need.

"I'll rub you all you want, tonight," Thorin murmured in Bilbo's ear, his hand warm on Bilbo's back. Then he stepped forward, saying, "I think that's more than enough. We've gotten a lot done." 

"I'm so glad I didn't decide to be an archivist," Kili said, leaning over and stretching his hands down to his toes. "My back might never unkink."

Thorin had cooked a chicken in tomato sauce in the slow cooker and served it over pasta, and – to Bilbo's surprise – almost everyone else had brought some sort of side dish, so in the end, there was more food than they could eat. Bilbo's baking, however, was demolished and he laughed at Fili's sad face as he looked through the containers for any last bits.

Legolas stood, smiling. "If you are all still peckish," he said and Gimli perked up. "I have brought something which I thought would be very appropriate." Legolas opened his pastry box and revealed cookies.

Gimli took one out and started laughing. It was shaped like a bone. Legolas smiled as everyone else reached in. 

"Hey, mine's a rib cage," Kili said, sounding delighted. "What did you get?" He leaned over to watch Fili pull out a cookie. 

"I think it's a pelvis," he said, snorting. 

Bilbo smiled down at the skull he'd chosen. "Where did you get them?" He took a bite, then hummed in pleasure. "Oh, lavender mint. These are excellent."

Legolas pinked. "There's a bakery near where I grew up. I told them I was going to an archaeology party and they made these special."

"I'd love to have their recipe," Bilbo said. "Or just the cutters – the shapes are quite realistic." Thorin was looking bemusedly at his shoulder joint.

When they'd finished eating, they wandered back into the living room. "Okay," Bilbo said. "I don't think I can face more of this tonight. Let's straighten up a bit, then catch up." He set his wine glass down at a table away from the antiques and started gathering notebooks. "I'll put the ones we haven't started over here, okay?"

They spent the rest of the evening sprawled out – over chairs and each other – talking. Eventually, Bilbo gently lowered Fili's legs to the ground and followed Thorin upstairs. "Don't think I'm going to let you off without giving me the back rub you promised," he whispered on the stairs. 

Thorin's low laugh warmed him to his toes.

The next morning, Bilbo and Thorin stumbled downstairs to find Dis and Balin in the kitchen discussing movie remakes over freshly made french toast. Dis hugged Bilbo and pressed him into her seat over his objections.

"Oh, just sit down," she said cheerfully. "It's clearly time to start the full-on breakfast production line. Those –" She pointed to a stack of muffins under a cloth on the counter. "Are fresh, and there's coffee in the pot. Cousin, if you don't mind starting another pot?"

Balin beamed at her and stood, pulling out coffee beans and other supplies with an ease born of clear familiarity. He smiled at Bilbo over his shoulder. "I saw Fatima yesterday. She seemed very excited about something." 

Bilbo snorted. "I believe she's learning about other possible directions her life might take."

"Is this to do with the tall gentleman who was waiting outside the classroom?" Balin smiled down into the french press as he added scoops of ground coffee.

"I can not speculate about the potential relationships of my students," Bilbo said, making his voice as prim as he could while grinning. Next to him, Thorin huffed a laugh.

"Well, he looks reliable," Balin said, "so I'm sure she'll manage him happily." At the stove, Dis chuckled as she piled a set of finished slices of french toast into a heavy stoneware bowl and slipped it back into the oven. 

"What's on the agenda for today?" she asked. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here yesterday, but my office is in the middle of something large – "

"Oh, this shouldn't come before work," Bilbo said. "No worries. I mean, this is really a side thing. Sort of." He drained his cup and eyed the oven, wondering if he could have more french toast without taking more than his share.

Dis glanced at him and smiled. "Want more? I've got plenty – we bought about twenty loaves of bread last night." At his nod, she opened the oven and took out the bowl. "Help yourself."

"We've got some of the notebooks done," Thorin said, finishing his own coffee. "And really I think we're just going to keep working on photographing and transcribing everything. Bilbo's been good at deciphering some of the old handwriting."

Bilbo rubbed his nose. "It's all my years dealing with students' handwriting. After a while, you get a feel for what people are saying."

Balin laughed. "Oh, this sounds fun."

"Oh hey, mom toast," Fili said, yawning and scratching his head. "I'll take eight slices, thanks. And a gallon of coffee."

"Don't drink it all, you lummox," Gimli said, coming into the kitchen right behind him. "There's others here who need sustenance as well."

Bilbo's head dropped onto Thorin's shoulder. "I think we should get another cup of coffee each," he whispered, "and then run for it."

They ended up working together on the notebook Bilbo hadn't finished the night before, while the rest of the group woke up and filtered into the kitchen. By the time everyone else had finished eating, they'd finished the notebook. 

"Okay," Kili said, falling into the chair next to where Bilbo sat on the loveseat. "What're you on?" He had a smear of syrup on his cheek and his hair was standing up on one side of his head.

Bilbo glanced at Thorin, who was smiling. "Uh, we just finished that notebook, but I was thinking of starting on some of the loose papers," he said. 

Kili glanced back and forth between Bilbo and Thorin, who was now hiding his face and laughing. "What?"

Bilbo sighed. "You've got syrup on your face."

Kili rolled his eyes. "All right, I'll go wash." He stood up and turned, then jumped slightly. Fili was standing behind him, eyebrows lifted. 

"You know you've got –" he started.

"I'm going, I'm going," Kili groaned. Fili watched him walk away and then collapsed into the same seat. 

"So, what'cha working on?" he asked.

Bilbo stood. "I'm getting more coffee – want some, Thorin? Then we're going to start on the loose papers." 

Dain arrived just before lunch. He'd brought sandwiches from a deli and laughed as everyone tried to show him the different things they'd found. After lunch, he asked Thorin and Bilbo to come with him. 

"I've got it just here," he said, rummaging in his leather satchel. He pulled out a dark cloth pouch. "I had Sitora make a bag for it. I didn't want it to get scratched or damaged." He set the bag in Thorin's hands. 

Thorin pulled it open and spilled the Arkenstone into his palm. It shimmered in the afternoon light pouring in through the narrow windows on either side of the front door, sending flashes of color onto the walls.

"Hey, is that the stone?" Gimli stood at Bilbo's elbow, making him jump. _How did he move so quietly?_ Gimli reached for the Arkenstone, and for a heartbeat, Bilbo saw Thorin's hands start to close around the stone, but then they fell open.

"That's it," Dain said, looking quizzically at Thorin. "Dunno what it is, but that's the Arkenstone."

"Huh," Gimli said, turning it in the light. "It's not a diamond, which is what I'd been expecting. You said 'white stone', and," he shrugged. "That's the usual thing. Not topaz, either, not with those colors. Opal?" He turned and showed it to Legolas, who was standing next to him. 

"Could be," Legolas said thoughtfully, lifting the stone from Gimli's hand and turning it in the light himself. "It's got odd inclusions, though."

"Inclusions?" Gimli pulled Legolas' hand down to where he could see the stone and peered at it. "Do you mean the striations, there? I don't think they're inclusions, but …" He turned Legolas' hand, without touching the stone himself and Bilbo found himself catching Thorin's eye and smiling. _They're really sweet together._

"What do you think?" Gimli thrust Legolas' hand toward Bilbo and he blinked, slightly startled. "You _are_ going to take to the lab and do some tests, right?"

Thorin's head snapped up. "What?"

Bilbo paused in his reach to take the stone. "Um, I was hoping to run it through a couple of our machines, yes?" He paused. "I mean, I can't think of any other way to figure out what the stone is, can you?"

Thorin pressed his lips together. "I just don't … it's so old."

Gimli raised his eyebrows. "It's about as old as the host material it's found in, so … Mesozoic?"

"Ah." Bilbo took the stone from Legolas' hand and cupped it. "I won't be shattering it, or even chipping part of it off. There are plenty of non-destructive methods of analysis. I wouldn't dream of breaking this."

"Oh, is that it?" Dis reached out and, after lifting a brow in question at Bilbo, took it from his hand. "This is beautiful. I can see why Grandda liked it." She wandered off into the living room leaving Bilbo and the rest of the group staring at each other. 

Dain burst into laughter, and after a moment, everyone followed.

"Okay," Thorin said to Bilbo after everyone else followed Dis. "Let me know what you find, okay?"

"Of course," Bilbo said. "I'm just as interested as you are."

Eventually, everyone settled down and went back to transcribing, occasionally calling out interesting things they read to the group as a whole.

Bilbo and Thorin stayed on the loveseat, with Thorin taking pictures of each of the individual small papers and Bilbo typing them up as quickly as he could. Several hours into the work, Thorin sucked in a sharp breath and Bilbo looked over.

"What is it?" Bilbo said

Thorin stared at a piece of yellowed paper, his eyes flicking side to side as he read. He turned the page over, then shoved roughly through the rest of the stack on his lap. "Where's the rest of it," he muttered.

"What?" Bilbo repeated.

Thorin thrust the paper at him, then went back to searching through the rest of the papers. Bilbo took the page and held it up.

> 8 September, 1929  
> Darling – 
> 
> I have spent the past few days immured in the area of the Princess's Gardens. Uncovering the walls was more difficult than we hoped, but with the help of the local young men, Hasseem and the crew managed.
> 
> I have found a treasure, darling, one which shall make you quite jealous, I am sure. I enclose a sketch, including diagrams detailing its position in the Gardens.
> 
> She is the most complete statue of my namesake I have ever seen, and – oh my dearest – upon her brow was mounted a stone the likes of which I have never seen. It is quite the most beautiful I have ever seen.
> 
> It is milky and nacreous, like an opal, but with the most fascinating internal reflectance. I can not wait until your return and am waiting with –   
> 

Bilbo turned the page over, but the back was blank. He turned it back to the writing and said, without looking up, "Where's the diagram?"

"It's not here," Thorin said, voice sharp. "Hey," he called out loud. "Who has the rest of the loose papers?"

Everyone stopped what they were doing. "You've got them all," Dwalin called back. "Why?"

"We found it," Thorin said.

"Found what?" Tauriel asked, standing up and stretching.

"It wasn't Thror who found the Arkenstone," Bilbo said, reading the letter again. "It was Istar, his wife."

"Grandma? But when?" Dis said, setting her notebook and laptop aside and coming over. Bilbo handed her the letter.

She read it quickly, then turned it over. "Where's the rest? And the diagram?"

Bilbo laughed. "That's what we were looking for."

Thorin was staring at the small statues Gimli, Legolas, and Tauriel had been working on. "That statue," he said softly. "The one in Grandda's back garden. It's this one, the one Grandma found."

"What?" Kili asked. "What's the letter say?" Everyone crowded around Dis, who started reading the letter out loud. 

While the rest were asking each other questions and talking, Dain tapped Bilbo on the shoulder. "Come with me for a minute?"

Bilbo followed him to the kitchen. "What?"

"Have you heard from Bergil recently?" Dain stood so he could watch the group in the living room.

"No, should I have?" Bilbo rubbed his shoulders and started the kettle for more coffee.

"It looks like they're still having trouble tying Azog into Frodo's shooting." Dain said softly.

Bilbo opened the fridge door and stared in at the remains of their meals. "That's annoying, but really, that shouldn't be a problem. I mean, there's no statute of limitation on murder, so she and the FBI should be able to do something with the stuff Thorin gave them, right?" At Dain's silence, Bilbo turned around.

"What aren't you telling me, Dain?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have accidentally fallen into a new fandom, guys, and if you're interested in a super cute webcomic produced by a lovely young lady of color about college hockey and the romantic escapades of a lighthearted team, then [Check, Please](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com) is just the thing for you.
> 
> Plus, it's got a broody dark haired, blue eyed hunk with a shorter bouncy blond who's a baker. Surely this was _made_ for Bagginshield fans, right?


	103. One Hundred Three – And Ain't That a Bitch?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the whole world just collapses down around your head, you know?
> 
> Dain has nothing but bad news for Bilbo, and then Tauriel notices something about the Arkenstone that no one else has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My laptop died! This is so upsetting. Three days ago, it was fine - everything was fine. Two days ago, the screen was either green or purple, with some weird screen-burn effects. Before trying anything to fix it, I backed everything up ... which turned out to be a good thing, because nothing I tried helped AND then yesterday it wouldn't turn on at all.
> 
> I have a tiny 11" notebook computer I got to use for ... heh, taking notes in class, so at least I could get the chapter written and posted, but oh golly, this is NOT good timing. Blargh.

Dain glanced through the door at the rest of the group. "I think you should sit down," he said.

Bilbo crossed his arms. "Just tell me, Dain."

"Nothing that Thorin found can be used to convict Azog of anything. He's not going to prison."

"Why not?" 

Dain sighed, still keeping an eye on the people laughing in the living room. "None of the evidence is conclusive. I know why Thorin said it was, I can see exactly what he saw in it, but it's just not enough to convict."

Bilbo sank down into one of the kitchen chairs and leaned his elbows on the table. "I don't get it. Kidnapping and murder are capital offenses. If Azog requested the commission of either of those, shouldn't he be automatically included in the conviction?"

Dain looked grim. "Ah, no. Kidnapping isn't a capital offense, and in Nebraska, it has a seven year statute of limitations, so that's well gone." He shifted and sent a smile – to Bilbo's eyes, clearly forced – to someone in the other room.

Bilbo ran a hand over his face. "But Thorin said that the letters were really clear." He thought for a minute. "And wasn't there a knife?"

Dain nodded. "There is, and they're not. I mean, yes, I understand what Thorin saw, but he's not a lawyer. The stuff Azog said about – didn’t you read the letters?"

Bilbo shook his head.

"Well, it could be used as a textbook example of how to say one thing and mean another." Dain crossed his arms and glared at the toes of his boots. "If you know him and what he's capable of, it's clear that he's asking for that poor boy to be kidnapped and murdered, but what he actually _says_ is entirely, well, not blameless, but certainly something he can explain away."

"And the knife?"

Dain looked as if he were carved from granite. "It implicates Thorin."

Bilbo felt a wave of dizziness. "What?"

"Thorin gave him that knife, he admitted so to Bergil. There are no fingerprints on the knife, Bilbo, nothing that shows who was touching it. So, there's just a bloody knife which Thorin says he gave to Azog, but which he, Thorin, gave to the police, saying he found it in the same envelope as the paperwork. Paperwork which doesn't actually conclusively prove that Azog was involved in the murder. There's nothing to show that Azog ever had the knife at all."

Now Bilbo felt ill. "Oh." He breathed in and out slowly through his nose. "Oh shit."

"Yes, quite." Dain said. They were both silent for a long moment. Sounds of laughter and happy conversation echoed in from the rest of the house. "Bergil's going to ignore the knife. She could get the blood on it matched to the blood taken from the boy's family, but at this point, since there's nothing in the letters which would really prompt her to try re-opening the murder case, she's just going to bury it all."

"What do you mean 'from the boy's family'? Why not match it directly to his blood?" 

"They never found him." Dain sounded exhausted.

Bilbo stared at him, waves of disgust passing over him. "How did they convict the people who killed him?"

"Mostly circumstantial evidence, really. They're from New York state, and they couldn't explain why they were in Nebraska. They were seen near the boy's school. The boy's jacket was found in the bushes near the hotel the killers were staying in." Dain looked grim. "In the end, the conviction was more because the jury was angry than because the prosecution could show clear guilt."

"It's Azog's family who did it, right?"

Dain nodded. "His brothers. Well, two of them."

"And now his son is going to jail for shooting Frodo – " Bilbo said.

"Well, that's the plan. He'll have a harder time explaining the shooting than he expected, given the video, but…" Dain said.

"And none of them will say anything about the fact that Azog told them to do it?" Bilbo could hear the anger in his voice.

Dain smiled bitterly. "To be entirely honest, we aren't sure Azog _did_ tell Bolg to shoot Frodo. It's entirely possible he's telling the truth, that he just saw some kids he didn't recognize messing around in his home town and wanted to warn them off."

"So, Azog's just going to get away with it? Again?" Bilbo stared at Dain, aghast.

Dain shrugged. "Unless he magically decides to confess, yeah." He shoved off the door jamb and hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. "Never let anyone tell you the law is anything but an absolute fucking nightmare." 

Bilbo sat in the empty kitchen, staring through the window at the darkness in the back garden. 

After a long time, he stood and wandered back into the living room. The gathering had broken into smaller groups and Bilbo moved through the room, shreds of each conversation drifting past him.

"… and then I told Glory that…" Thorin was smiling as he spoke to his sister, and Bilbo turned away.

"… didn't think that it was such a big deal, until I saw this lummox," Gimli hooked a thumb over his shoulder at Fili, who grinned, "complaining about it on Facebook." Bilbo watched Legolas' face light with humor.

Balin looked at Bilbo sharply over his reading glasses, then shook his head and turned back to his conversation with his brother. 

Bilbo sat down on the couch where he'd been working and leaned his head against the back, closing his eyes and trying to get his stomach to stop churning.

He slept badly that night. In his dreams, familiar figures turned in shifting light to show unfamiliar menacing faces. 

He woke to Thorin sitting on the bed, smiling down at him and holding a large cup of coffee. "Wake up, sleepyhead," he said. "Brought you coffee."

Bilbo struggled up and leaned against the headboard. "Thanks," he yawned, taking the cup and burying his nose in the steam.

"You were quiet at dinner," Thorin said, drinking from his own cup. He shifted so he was sitting cross legged on the bed near Bilbo's feet. "I didn't think it had been _that_ tiring, going through those old things."

Bilbo took a deep swig of the coffee, hoping to give himself some time to figure out what to say. "I was just thinking about the Arkenstone, I guess." He ignored the way Thorin's face fell. "Look," Bilbo said, reaching out and wrapping his hand around Thorin's ankle. "I'm fine, we're fine, I'm just busy. It's coming up on finals, you know."

Thorin nodded, but his eyes didn't look fully convinced. "Okay." A sly grin slid onto his face. "But you'd better get downstairs if you want any waffles."

Bilbo jumped, nearly spilling the coffee. "And you let me stay up here? You wretch!"

Downstairs, the kitchen was a happy mess, with Dwalin and Balin laughing over a sink full of dishes. Fili stood in the breakfast nook with a plateful of waffles nearly invisible under a mountain of whipped cream and strawberries. 

"There you are! Gimli leaned forward around the half-wall protecting the table. "I thought you were going to sleep through breakfast."   
"Or were you kept up late," called Dwalin, his voice suggestive. Beside him, Thorin went pink, and Balin cackled. Bilbo felt his bad mood lighten and he smiled at his feet. A plate, filled with waffles, whipped cream, and strawberries appeared in his view. 

Bilbo looked up at Thorin's smiling face and sighed, smiling himself. "Thanks. That looks great."

Thorin's smile widened. "There's bacon after, if you want." Over Thorin's shoulder, Dwalin nodded.

"I saved you some," Dwalin said.

Over the rest of the morning, the rest of the group filtered back in and went back to working through the antiques. 

Suddenly, Tauriel set her camera down and turned to Dis. "I've been thinking," she said. "Your grandmother is the one who found the stone, correct?"

Dis, head bent over an extremely faded sheet of paper, hummed in agreement. 

"So, she was also an archaeologist?" Tauriel continued. Dis hummed again. "Was she in Albania? Because this is about getting Smaug to stop harassing Thorin, right?"

Bilbo felt like he'd been doused in cold water. He lifted his head slowly, first meeting Fili's shocked gaze, then Thorin's across the deathly silent room. Around them, everyone was looking around.

"Well, shit," Dwalin said. Bilbo felt a bubble of unexpected hilarity rise inside himself.

Dis stared at Tauriel, then turned to the rest of the room. "Is _any_ of this from anywhere but Turkey?" The room filled with negative sounds. "Okay, then I think it's time we took a break." She shoved the papers she was working on aside and stood, twisting her back. "I'm making coffee. Anyone else want any?"

Everyone followed her, but Thorin caught Bilbo's hand and pulled him aside. "This … shit."

Bilbo snorted. "Well, that's true enough. _Now_ what?" He wrapped his arms around Thorin's waist and rested his forehead on Thorin's chest. "I'll tell Nori, maybe he'll be able to think of a way to spin it."

In the kitchen, there was a lively discussion about whether or not they should go to the movies.

"I just say," Gimli said loudly, "that since it's clear this isn't as time sensitive as we'd thought, we can go today." He pulled out his phone and started tapping. "Because I want to go see the Mad Max movie – it looks fucking awesome." Legolas bent over his shoulder to look at the screen with him.

Dwalin nodded. "I'm in. Badass Charlize Theron? Sure. Where's it playing?"

Dis slid through the group and stepped up to Thorin and Bilbo. "This is a surprise." Her gaze was sharp on Thorin's face.

He sighed. "I don't know what we're going to tell Smaug now," he said.

Bilbo turned away from the cheerful discussion in the kitchen. "We weren't really going to give it to him anyway. This way we just have real proof that it was never his. In a weird way, it doesn't _change_ anything." He shrugged. "It just means we'll have to find a different set of museums to talk to."

In the end, they all went to see the movie; afterward, Bilbo drove home through the gathering dusk, feeling disoriented from the tense emotions of the movie and the wild shocks from the weekend. _Who'd have thought I'd be looking forward to dealing with midterms?_

On Monday, after class, he jerked his head at Elladan, who'd spent the entire lecture period staring at the back of Fatima's head. When he and Elladan got to Bilbo's office, he closed and locked the door.

"When were you going to tell me that there's nothing you can do to put Azog in prison?"

Elladan stilled, and suddenly Bilbo was reminded that he was actually a federal agent, not the somewhat hapless non-chemistry student he'd been pretending to be.

"Why do you think that?" Elladan said, voice cool.

"Cut the fucking shit, Agent Peredhil," Bilbo snapped. "My sources aren't your goddamn business. _When were you going to tell me?_ "

"Elrohir thought we should tell you right away," Elladan offered, "but Lindir over-rode him. He hoped that Azog might contact you. We need something, Bilbo, or he's going to slip away again." His face was tight and furious. "He's a scheming, murderous, lying drug smuggler and we can't fucking pin anything on him. We can get to within about three levels from him, but then the chain just breaks down."

He turned in a tight circle, waving his hands. "His family runs a drug smuggling operation that's beautiful in its absolute impossibility to crack. He's getting it here from Albania somehow; we can track it there, and we can get up to the mid-level dealers here, but the bit in the middle just breaks down."

Bilbo sank down into his chair, feeling something prickle at the back of his neck. "Have you looked into archaeology? It's a fascinating field."

Elladan stared at him, eyebrows drawn down. "Why the hell are you –" His mouth fell open. "Oh. Oh, that's something we hadn't … I have to go." He turned and grabbed the knob, but it didn't move. "Bilbo, I have to _go_."

Bilbo leaned forward. "What do you need to put Azog away?"

Elladan threw his hands in the air. "I don't know, a videotaped confession? Unlock this door, dammit. Holding a federal official against their will is kidnapping."

Bilbo unlocked the door. Elladan charged out of the room and down the corridor, pushing through the students without any concern. As Bilbo turned to go back into his office, he saw Fatima staring at Elladan's back. She looked at Bilbo and tipped her head, following him into the office.

"What did you say to him?" she asked.

Bilbo smiled, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "I'm a teacher," he said. "I made him look at one of his problems from a different perspective."

He came home to a delicious pot roast with green beans, mashed potatoes, and steamed carrots with a ginger-honey glaze. Thorin smiled at Bilbo's compliments and looked very pleased when there weren't any leftovers. 

After dinner, while Frodo washed the dishes, Bilbo and Thorin sat in the living room. Thorin sat at the other end of the couch and tucked his feet under Bilbo's thighs as Bilbo sat working through the leftover tests and classwork. They stumbled to bed just after midnight; Bilbo burrowed into Thorin's chest and worked on just breathing.

The next day he sat in his flet at Lorien, staring out the window. The weather was fine, there wasn't a breath of wind, but somehow it felt as if there were a storm gathering. 

They weren't going to have to handle Smaug anymore – the Arkenstone just wasn't his and wasn't even from the same country. No matter how difficult it was, there was nothing they could do about Azog, either. What they'd thought of as incontrovertible evidence was really inconsequential. 

Bilbo swung his chair around and stared at the data on the computer. "None of this matters," he said. "I give up."

He left the flet, locking it behind him, and walked out into the tall trees of the Lorien campus. It was odd how completely the outside world disappeared here; he could have been in the middle of an ancient forest. Only the sight of high wispy contrail gave away the modern world.

_What now?_


	104. One Hundred Four – Still More Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has a conversation with Galadriel and Celeborn and learns that people are most definitely not who or what he thought they were. He has a further shock when he meets a geologist at the university and learns more about the Arkenstone.

Bilbo walked further along the path, not looking up at the sky with its reminders that he wasn't in the middle of one of the forests from his novels. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked idly at some small pebbles which had moved from the forest floor to the center of the path.

One was kicked back at him and he jumped, then looked up. Celeborn stood next to him, standing so that his long silvery blond hair caught the light from a sunbeam slanting through the trees.

"I –" Bilbo said. "Can I help you?"

Celeborn gazed evenly at him. "Thank you. That is very kind. However, I believe that it is I, in this case, who can offer help."

Bilbo blinked at him. "Um…"

Celeborn gestured forward along a side path, saying, "I – _we_ have been aware for some time of the difficulties you are facing with the Gogol family as well as with the pretender, Smaug." He strode forward, his hands laced together behind his back; Bilbo hurried to keep up. "As you now appear to have exhausted all other resources, my lady and I thought to offer our aid."

Bilbo stopped. "I'm sorry, uh, Celeborn, but I'm not sure I understand. You're offering me help with Azog Gogol?"

Celeborn nodded, his expression calm. "We believe that he might be more susceptible to a less direct approach than the ones which the law enforcement organizations have suggested." He nodded down the path. "If you would accompany me, we have a few ideas we would like to discuss with you."

Bilbo shook his head. "All right, but I'm not sure you know everything."

Celeborn walked silently next to Bilbo, leading him through parts of the Lorien campus that he had never seen. The trees in this area were taller and looked much older. Bilbo opened his mouth several times to try to ask questions, but each time, the silence of the woods and Celeborn's stern face kept him from actually saying anything.

Eventually, they reached a small two-story house at the food of a very large old redwood. There were stairs built onto the tree and, far above them, Bilbo could see what looked like several small flets in the upper branches. 

As they arrived, the door swung open and Galadriel peeked around the frame, her face smiling and happy. "Bilbo, I'm so glad you could come. You haven't come to the house, have you?" She welcomed him in, then leaned up and gave Celeborn a small kiss as he followed Bilbo in. "I'll just bring Bilbo to the sitting room," she said to him, "and you can bring the refreshments." Celeborn nodded and Bilbo, feeling a bit bewildered, watched him go. 

"Now," Galadriel said briskly, "please just leave your shoes there with the rest and follow me." She pointed and Bilbo saw a happy pile of shoes near the door. He toed off his shoes while she waited, then followed her into the next room, which was brightly lit by floor to ceiling windows. The furnishings were large and comfortable looking; there were two rustic wooden couches with thick woven pillows, as well as a coffee table which was a semi-circular slab of an old tree trunk and a larger table made from a full cut of an old redwood tree. There was also a large loom in one corner of the room and several baskets with yarn near the couches.

Bilbo sat down and Galadriel sank down onto the couch next to him. "This must have been very difficult for you," she said, smiling gently at him. "I'm so glad you've finally allowed us to help."

Bilbo coughed. "It has been," he said, "but I'm not sure what you and Celeborn are talking about, or how you think you can help. Azog Gogol is a drug smuggler and a criminal and you're –" He broke off, then said, "Lorien is a biomedical company."

She smiled and patted his hand. "All of that is true," she said. "However, there is more to this – thank you very much, _älskling_ , that looks lovely." Celeborn had placed a tray with a large coffee pot, several types of sandwiches cut into small pieces, and a variety of delicate looking cakes onto the half-slab table in front of the couch where Bilbo and Galadriel were sitting. He himself sat down on the other couch and started pouring cups of coffee, handing them peaceably around.

"While it's true that Lorien works on biomedical research, that isn't our only focus." Galadriel took a delicate sip of her coffee. "Nor is it true that it's all we've ever done. Haldir, for example, was the leader of an elite military team – I am positive that no one truly knows everything that man is capable of doing. I certainly haven't asked him. Celeborn and I have worked in a variety of positions for more than one NGO and governmental agency and we retain the connections which those jobs gave us." She smiled at Bilbo and took a bite of a sandwich.

Celeborn set his now empty plate aside. "Aside from our association with our grandchildren –"

Bilbo jumped slightly, then laughed under his breath. "I had sort of forgotten that connection. I snapped at Elladan yesterday." He started eating his sandwiches.

Celeborn gave him a small smile. "I'm certain he earned it. They're good boys, but they don't always think things through." He crossed his legs and leaned back. "However, we have connections to law enforcement agencies other than those at which we have family members. We have been aware of the actions of the Gogol family for quite some time. Our family is long-lived and we have crossed paths with the Gogol's – and their representatives – a few times. We would like to offer you our expertise to you."

"Now," Galadriel said, placing her empty plate and cup on the tray. "I believe we have an accurate understanding of the current situation, but why don't you fill us in after you have finished eating." 

Bilbo looked back and forth between them, his hands full of his own cup of coffee and plate of food. "I … sure." He took a deep swig of his coffee and started. "I think it really started when I visited Thorin – ah, the musician? Thorin Durin?"

Galadriel smiled at him. "I've seen his pictures. He's very handsome and has a lovely singing voice. You two are dating, of course."

He blinked at her, then nodded. "Yes. Anyway, he was on tour and I was seen by the paparazzi when I visited him in Baltimore." He took a bite of a petit four. "I didn't even know that Azog existed until then, but he started posting about me."

It took nearly an hour – and another cup of coffee – for him to tell the story to their satisfaction. When he'd answered all their questions, they looked at each other for a long moment, then Celeborn said, "It looks as if the best way would actually be the direct way."

Bilbo rubbed his nose. "I assume you don't mean that I should just ask him to confess to ordering the murder of that poor boy?"

Galadriel smiled from her position curled in the corner of the sofa. "I'm sure we can work on the script."

Bilbo stared at her, then at Celeborn. "That's … okay. I don't think that's a good idea."

Galadriel leaned forward and put her hand on his knee. "I can see why you might think that, but I have a plan."

Bilbo drove home that afternoon, his head buzzing. When he pulled up, he saw the vague shape of a man standing near his front door. After a moment sitting in his car, he walked up to his door.

"Erestor," he said, "tell me what you know about Galadriel and Celeborn Nenya."

Erestor raised his eyebrows. "Is there a reason you're asking about my estimable partners' grandparents?"

Bilbo crossed his arms. "Cut the shit, Agent Thinde. It's far too late for this to be funny. I know you know Haldir and … what was the other one called? Rumor?"

Erestor snorted. "Rumil. Yes, I have crossed paths with them. If they haven't told you anything about themselves, then I am not in a position where I can, either." He shrugged; his regretful expression looked honest. "It sounds trite, but most of the information about them really is need to know."

Bilbo looked at the light warming the inside of his living room curtains, then out at the cold, dark street. "Can I trust them?"

"With your life." Erestor's voice was firm. "I have."

Bilbo pulled in a breath. "Thank you." He ran a hand down the back of his head. "Coming in for dinner? Surely it's someone else's turn for staring at my across the street neighbor's hedge."

Erestor looked at him, his dark eyes curious on Bilbo's. "If you're talking to the Nenyas, then I don't think we'll need anyone out here tonight."

In the end, they all went out for pizza.

The next day, Bilbo taught his classes and spent the afternoon in his office, catching up on grading. As a break, he checked his email.

_To: ProfBBaggins_  
From: Nori@ConsortBooks  
[1 file attached] 

_The article came in! I've enclosed a copy of it for you to read, but she got him to say everything we wanted. Now all we need to do is get him to open talks with the museum.  
_

Bilbo rubbed his eyes. "Shit. I forgot to tell Nori."

_To: Nori@ConsortBooks  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_That's great! I'll read the article this weekend. There's been a bit of a change, though. The stone isn't Albanian. Turns out, Thorin's grandmother found it while she was on a dig in Turkey. She was an archaeologist as well and wrote a letter to his grandfather about it, describing where it was and everything._

_There wasn't anything in the stuff we looked through that was Albanian. Poor Smaug's out of luck.  
_

Bilbo checked the time, then closed his browser and left his office, carefully locking the door behind him. The corridors were busy and he had to walk around several groups of students on his way down the stairs. After a few minutes, he poked his head through an open door which led to a narrow hallway opening onto a set of small offices.

"Doctor Goldberry? River?" he called.

"Come in. I'm just finishing up," a woman replied cheerfully from the furthest office. As Bilbo came around the door, a short woman with riotous blond curls tied into a knot on the top of her head crawled backwards out from under her desk. "There you are," she said to her right hand, which was closed into a fist. She sat back on her heels and beamed up at him, shoving her glasses higher on her nose as she did so. "Hello there. You must be Bilbo Baggins."

He smiled. "Guilty as charged. Did you lose something?" He gestured to her hand.

She stood up, grunting softly. "This slippery sucker thought it could just dive off the back of my desk and hide." She held out her hand to show him a small carving of a water lily with a tiny frog perched on the edge of the lily pad.

"It's beautiful," he said. "Netsuke?"

She nodded and dropped it into one of the pockets in her coat. "Yeah. My grandfather got it in Japan, just after the war and I keep it with me all the time." She sat down and tucked one leg under herself. "So, your email said you had something for me to look at?"

Bilbo pulled a cloth bag out of his satchel and tipped the Arkenstone into his hand.

Dr Goldberry leaned forward over the stone in his hand and looked at it for a moment, then glanced up at him. "May I touch it?"

Bilbo nodded. "Of course. How else are you going to find anything out?"

She smiled and picked it up carefully. "People get funny about things sometimes." She turned it over in her hands, and Bilbo watched the play of colors in the stone. "It looks like opal, but there's something inside …" She tipped the Arkenstone from side to side. "Where did you get it?"

"It was found in an archeological site in 1929."

She tipped her head back and looked at him. "Why are you so … oh, please sit down." She looked at the seat next to her desk and laughed. "Wait, let me clear that off for you." After handing him the stone back, she moved the pile of books and papers from the chair to the floor, then took the stone back. "Who do you know who was doing archaeology in Australia in 1929?"

"Australia?"

"If this is what I think it is, there's no place else for it to have been found." She looked at him sharply. "Why?"

"That was found in Turkey. Anatolia." 

She shoved the stone at him. "Then it's a fake."

Bilbo looked from her annoyed expression to the stone. "No, really. It was found by my, ah, boyfriend's grandmother. We have her letter describing the find and he's got the statue it was mounted in."

She reached for it again. "You're sure about that?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." He raised his eyebrows. "Why? What do you think it is?"

She sighed deeply. "It's a fossilized ammonite."

He stared at her. "I, uh. What?"

She set the stone down on her desk and pulled out her phone. "May I take pictures?" At his nod, she opened the camera. 

"I've seen fossils," Bilbo said. "And they don't look anything like that."

"Fossils are usually made of rock, right?"

"Yes, that's what I thought."

"Well, Australia's weird. Sometimes, if a fossil was made in Australia, it was made with opal instead. There are loads of them. I mean," she shrugged. "Not enough for everyone to have seen them, but opalized fossils are relatively common. Most aren't as beautiful as this one must have been." She peered at it closely, pulling her glasses down so she could look at it from only an inch or two away.

"Must have been? It isn't beautiful any more?" Bilbo found himself unexpectedly affronted.

She chuckled. "The faceting. It's cut off all the outer shaping, so all we have left is the opal itself – and yes, it is a particularly fine example, but still. At least you can see the internal striations, which, if you look here –" She pulled out a fine metal pointer and showed him, "show you the shapes of the internal tissues of the ammonite."

Bilbo looked at the stone, then at her. "But how did it get from Australia to Anatolia?"

She snorted gently. "Well, maybe one of the other archaeologists had been to Australia."

"That doesn't work. This was _dug up_ in Anatolia. The statue it was in was of Ishtar, from about 2000 BC."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, this is a thing. They're gorgeous and I want one.
> 
> [Some pretty pictures](http://www.foreshorefossils.com/opals-ammolites/)
> 
> [Look how big they get!](http://www.zmescience.com/other/fossil-friday/fossilfriday-gigantic-opalized-ammonite-fossil/)
> 
> This is [Ammolite](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ammolite), which isn't the same thing, but which is similar and very pretty.
> 
> And then there are [pyritized fossils](http://www.stat.wisc.edu/~ifischer/Collections/Fossils/Images/pyritized.jpg), which are equally spectacular to look at. ([Here's](http://echinoblog.blogspot.com/2015/03/pyritized-fossils-all-that-glitters-is.html) [more](http://www.periodictable.com/Items/PyritizedAmmonite1/index.html) [information](https://www.fossilrealm.com/pages/learn-about-pyritized-fossils).)


	105. One Hundred Five -  Things Get Tighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo figures that if he just keeps going forward, eventually everyone else will climb on board, right? Right?
> 
> In other news, spectacularly bad ideas never turn into good ones. They just don't.

Bilbo shut his lab door behind himself and sighed. "Well, that was interesting," he muttered. 

"What?" Ori looked up from his laptop. His hair was rough and the dark circles under his eyes looked nearly purple. 

"Ori," Bilbo said. "How long have you been here? It's nearly seven."

Ori blinked at him, then rubbed his eyes, groaning. "I don't know? I'm nearly done with this section."

Bilbo bent over and peered at Ori's screen, then chuckled. "Ori, I think it's time you stopped. That last paragraph is barely in English. Do you have any plans tonight?"

Ori shook his head. "I don't think so. I can ask Bofur." He patted his pockets, his face growing increasingly anxious. "I can't find my phone. Shit."

Bilbo put a hand on Ori's shoulder. "It's right there." He pointed at Ori's phone, sitting to the right of the computer. "Come on. I'll make you dinner and you can stay at my house tonight."

Ori nodded, clicked the save button, then closed his computer. In the car on the way to Bilbo's house, he turned to Bilbo and said, "Wait. What was interesting?"

Bilbo glanced over. "What?"

"You said something about … something being interesting. When you came into the lab?"

"Right." Bilbo pulled in a breath. "So, you know about the Arkenstone, right?" 

Ori nodded. "I think so. It's the thing Smaug wants, right?"

"Right. And you know that Frodo and his friends found it during their New York disaster?" Bilbo parked in front of his house and turned the car off.

On the way through the front door, Ori said, "Wasn't Thorin going to see if he could find out more information?"

In the kitchen, Bilbo looked in the fridge. "We have a lot of mushrooms and some ground beef." He stared at Ori. "And I think I've got frozen spinach. How about Joe's Special?"

Ori collapsed into a chair and let his head fall onto the table. "Boss, I don't know that I care what you feed me."

"Great." Bilbo rubbed Ori's shoulder and went to check on Frodo. He was in his room, headphones on and swearing at his computer. He looked enthusiastic about breakfast for dinner, and then asked Bilbo if he knew anything about what people ate during the Depression. 

"Anything they could get, I assume. Class project?" 

"Uh huh. I hope we don't have to actually cook anything." Frodo looked annoyed. "Call me when dinner's ready?"

After dinner, Bilbo sat in his office and stared at the computer screen. _I should email Thorin. He'll want to know what I've found out._ He watched the pictures in his screensaver flicker past, not really paying attention to any of them. With a heavy sigh, he checked the time, then stood up and went to bed. 

He woke up very early the next morning. After trying fruitlessly to go back to sleep, he grumbled his way through making coffee and then sat, feeling irritable and grouchy, in front of his computer. 

"Fine. I'll do it," he said. "But I don't like it and I think you two are fucking nuts. I mean, it's not like _you're_ the ones who'll be in danger." He opened Gmail. "And I won't ask how you got this email address."

_To: Ariuimadh  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Let's talk face to face. I'm sure we can come to some agreement in person._

_Bilbo Baggins  
_

"Well," he said, staring at the little yellow note saying the email was sent. "That's done it. There's no going back."

He felt jittery the rest of the morning, but by the time he was lecturing to his afternoon Inorganic Chemistry class, he'd forgotten about it. 

"Don't forget that Monday's a holiday," he said, as he was wrapping up. "And then there's just two more lecture period until finals week, so make sure you ask any questions you have now. I'll extend my office hours and get the other lab teachers to do the same thing. I know that Ori's got at least one extra set of office hours planned."

The class groaned and he chuckled. "It's nearly over, kids. Then there's all summer for you to forget everything again."

He wandered down the hall, listening to the excited chatter of the various students and felt a rush of unexpected hope. _It is nearly summer time. Maybe Frodo and I can go somewhere for vacation._

He stopped into the department office to drop off paperwork and pick up his mail. On the way from there to his own office, someone ran into him hard enough to knock him back slightly. 

"Watch where you're going," he snapped.

A tall, stocky student he'd never seen before stepped up to him, shoving his chest into Bilbo's. "You're Professor Baggins?" At Bilbo's nod, he continued, "He says yes and he'll let you know when." He turned and started storming away, when Bilbo called after him. 

"Not so fast. That's not how this is going to work."

The young man stopped as if he'd hit a wall, then he turned slowly, his face cold and hard. "Have you changed your mind?"

Bilbo stood straight, aware of the fact that the hall, which should be filled with other students, was echoingly empty. "I have not. But he doesn't get to dictate when and where this will happen. I will not agree to meeting at any random time and place which suits _him_. I'm not stupid."

The boy nodded. "He'll be in touch." He took two strides and then was away down the stairs, his footsteps echoing harshly against the cement walls.

The hall refilled with students, wandering along as if they'd always been there. After a moment, Bilbo realized that Elrohir was staring at him from across the hall, his brows drawn tightly together.

"What was that about?" Elrohir asked.

Bilbo shook his head. "Don't – don't worry about it." He pushed away from the wall he discovered he was leaning on and continued walking to his office. Elrohir followed him in and shut the door behind them. 

Beorn looked up and smiled. "Hey there. Do you need the office? I shouldn't have students coming for another couple of hours."

"No," Bilbo said, just as Elrohir said, "Yes." 

Bilbo sighed. "Fine, yes, thank you, that would be great, Beorn. But this won't take long."

Beorn looked back and forth between them, then stood up, eyes fixed on Elrohir. He shook out his shoulders and Bilbo noticed for the first time that Beorn was a very large man; he was taller and broader than Elrohir. Bilbo saw Elrohir's eyes narrow at Beorn.

"If you need me for anything, Bilbo," Beorn said, "I'll be just down the hall, talking to Gandalf." He tapped Shelob's tank and she scurried to the glass, waving two of her legs. Elrohir took a step back and Beorn smiled at Bilbo, then left, shutting the door gently behind himself.

"What. Was. That." Elrohir crossed his arms.

"None of your business, actually." Bilbo thought of saying, "Ask your grandparents." but just managed to keep his mouth closed around the words. He hiccupped a short laugh, then continued, "I do have things to do, finals are coming up and I've a lot of work. Do you need anything else?"

Elrohir glared at him, then closed his hands into fists next to his biceps. Bilbo forced himself to sit down calmly. 

"You know," Bilbo said, "not everything that happens belongs in your FBI files."

Elrohir's lips tightened, but he dropped his arms. "If you're withholding information that the FBI could use…"

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "I was under the impression that my cooperation was to be voluntary."

The door burst open and Elladan rushed into the room, panting, Fatima just behind him. "Bilbo, what…?" Elladan looked between his brother and Bilbo, his expression shifting from confusion to tense worry. "Elrohir?"

Fatima pushed past Elladan and stood next to Bilbo, her hand on his shoulder. She looked back and forth between the two agents. "I – is this your brother? I thought you said you were twins."

Elladan glanced at her. "I – we are?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Okay." She sounded doubtful. 

Elladan started whispering harshly to his brother, so she leaned close to Bilbo's ear and said softly, "Beorn said some guy was threatening you, so we came right away. Is he working for that guy, Azog?"

Bilbo felt a rush of cold over his whole body. _Shit, wouldn't that be fucking awful._ "Ah, no." _At least I hope not._ "He's another agent, like Elladan. He saw me talking to a student in the hall and seems to have taken it the wrong way."

She leaned back and looked at him, then at Elrohir, who was glaring at his brother. "Well, that doesn't make any sense. Why would he be upset about you talking to someone?"

" _Because he was talking to someone about Azog!_ " Elrohir roared. 

Elladan and Fatima both turned to look at Bilbo, who hoped his face didn't give his thoughts away. 

"Were you?" Elladan asked.

"It would be a singularly stupid thing to do," Bilbo replied.

Elladan turned back to Elrohir. "See? That's ridiculous. There's no way that Bilbo would do something like that. He wants to get Azog just as much as the rest of us."

"You know, the door's still open," Bilbo said. "I think you guys have pretty much blown any cover you thought you had. How about you go talk to your boss and then he can call me. I don't think this is working out." 

They both looked at him; Elrohir stormed from the office, but Elladan looked back and forth between his brother's receding back and Bilbo and Fatima. 

"Bilbo," he said, his voice firm, "whatever you do, if you need help, call on me. I'll be there as soon as I can." He flicked a glance at Fatima, then followed his brother, pulling the office door nearly closed as he left. 

The office was quiet for a moment, then Fatima crossed her arms. "I notice," she said, "that you didn't actually say you weren't talking to someone about Azog."

Bilbo smiled at his hands, resting in his lap. "Can't get anything past you, can I?" He breathed in deeply, then said, looking her in the eyes, "I can't actually talk about it. I'm working on dealing with this – with Azog and the rest of it – but I don't know if it'll work and I just … can't talk about it."

She gazed back at him, her eyes shifting to look into one, then the other, of his. After a moment, she nodded sharply. "You're the boss. But if you need help, please let me know." She rubbed her nose. "You're my favorite professor. Don't tell Dr Pizzolo."

Bilbo laughed. "Your secret's safe with me." He heaved in a breath and stood up. "And I think it's time I went home. I have a mountain of grading to do and then I have to work on finals."

"If I get my mom to make you her special pistachio cookies, will you just, uh, forget our final?"

"You're taking the ACS final, so there's nothing I can do about it. And isn't bribing a professor bad?" Bilbo smiled.

Fatima groaned. "But I don't want to…"

At home, Bilbo started roasting a chicken for dinner. While it cooked, he sat at the kitchen table and worked through as many of the unfinished lab reports and quizzes as he could. When he'd given himself a headache, he checked on the chicken, then went to the living room and lay on the couch. After a moment, he looked at the table and smiled at Deathless' unimpressed look. 

"Yeah, I know. This is a supremely bad idea." He rubbed the carved Dwarf's head and called Thorin.

"Hey, how's the archiving going?"

Thorin sounded rough, as if he hadn't used his voice much. "Fine." He coughed and cleared his throat. "I think we're nearly done, actually. Have you found out anything about the Arkenstone?"

"Oh right!" Bilbo sat up on the couch, now pleased to tell Thorin what Robin Goldberry had said. "I did. It's a fossil."

"A … what? It can't be a fossil, those are rock." There was a clattering sound; Bilbo could picture Thorin setting his coffee maker on the stove. 

"That's what I said, but the woman I asked was really certain. She showed me what to look for, even. It's from Australia –" 

"Australia? Come on, that's clearly wrong." Thorin did something which made an awful crackling noise on the phone, then said, clearly talking away from the phone, "He says it came from Australia." There was a pause; Thorin chuckled at something Bilbo couldn't hear, then said, "Dwalin says you must have been wearing ear plugs."

Bilbo smiled, picturing Dwalin sitting in Thorin's kitchen. "Yeah, I know. But it's a thing. Tell Dwalin to look up opalized fossils." He waited while Thorin relayed the information. "So, she's got it and she's doing a couple of other tests – nothing destructive, don't worry. She's already upset enough that someone cut it to make the facets."

"The facets?" Bilbo could hear Dwalin's voice rumbling in the background, overlaid by the sounds of Thorin finishing making coffee. "Hang on, let me look, Dwalin, stop scrolling … oh."

"Yeah, oh." Bilbo chuckled, feeling better than he had in days. "They're amazing, aren't they?"

Dwalin's voice came onto the phone. "Thorin's stolen my phone." He sounded sulky and Bilbo laughed. 

"You poor thing. I'm sure you can figure something out." Bilbo heard Frodo come in the kitchen door and sat halfway up. "Hang on for a second, Dwalin?" Dwalin grunted and Bilbo rolled his eyes. "Frodo, we're having chicken for dinner. Can you get broccoli ready and start the rice maker? How about Mexican rice?"

Sam called out agreement and Bilbo lay back down on the couch. "Has Thorin given you your phone back?"

"I did," Thorin said, sounding amused. "And how did it get from Australia to Turkey?"

"That's the big question," Bilbo said. "The stone won't tell us, and if there hasn't been anything in the stuff you've been going through, we might never know. I mean." He rubbed his eyes. "It's not inconceivable that there was travel between Australia and Anatolia. It was on a goddess' head, after all, which does indicate that they knew it was something special."

"You're kidding," Thorin said. "That's, what, thousands of miles?"

Bilbo shrugged. "People crossed the Pacific using nothing but maps made of sticks. I've looked at a map. It's one of the water routes for the Silk Road. I mean, yeah, that was thousands of years later, but still. Totally do-able."

"Huh." Bilbo listened to Thorin breathing for a moment. "We didn't find any other information about it, by the way," Thorin said.

"I didn't think you would. It seems to enjoy being a mystery." Bilbo sat up. "What should we do about Smaug? And what do you think we should do with the stone itself, now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! 
> 
> Joe's [Special](http://www.sfgate.com/recipes/article/Eat-at-Joe-s-In-San-Francisco-all-roads-lead-2301478.php) is something I grew up eating. I love it. Filling, cheap, easy ... and from my home area.
> 
> These are the pistachio [cookies](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/B%C3%BClb%C3%BCl_yuvas%C4%B1) Fatima's trying to bribe Bilbo with. They look good, don't they?
> 
> And lastly, yes, the [Silk Road](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silk_Road) is quite possibly that old, at least the land bits. If you click on the image at the top of that page, you can see the water routes, which got as far as Java, so there's no reason they couldn't have gone a little further. 
> 
> The [ACS](https://www.acs.org/content/acs/en.html) does run a set of Final Exams for students in college Chem classes. I've taken the Organic Chemistry one and it was dire. I mean, I passed, with a decent grade, but it wasn't fun. (Spoiler: Fatima's going to do just fine.)


	106. One Hundred Six – Forward into the Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has meetings with new people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's okay and safe. These are very scary times. Be careful, practice self-care, be vigilant. *hugs*

After dinner, Bilbo sat back down with his stack of work, pushing through until he'd caught up on all the lab reports from both lab courses he was teaching that quarter. When he finally stuck the last one on the stack, he groaned, rubbed his face, and collapsed in his chair, letting his head sag over the back of the chair. 

"Shit," he said. "It's one in the morning. At least I don't have to go to work tomorrow." He looked at the finished papers and sat up. _If I take those to school now and put them in the kids' lockers, I won't have to go back at all until Monday._

Walking through the barely lit parking lot, he had a momentary flash of worry, then started to laugh. _I'm probably in less danger now than I was last week. Azog'll never let anything happen to me before we talk._ He delivered the lab reports, locked the door to the lab carefully behind himself and trotted downstairs to the second floor before walking back down the hall towards the parking lot. 

Light shone from under a door halfway down the hall. Bilbo glanced at the door. Dr Turgon. _I wonder what they're doing here so late. Probably the same thing I am._

The next day, he woke up late and lay in bed for a few minutes, luxuriating in the whole day off stretching out in front of him. In the kitchen, some time later, he sat in the kitchen with his laptop, the remains of a large breakfast, and his third cup of coffee.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: AdamantTrees_

_My dear Bilbo,_

_I have discussed your situation with my contacts and they would like to schedule a meeting with you before you make any final decisions. Please let me know when, in the next few days, you have the time to meet._

_Galadriel  
_

Bilbo rubbed his nose and sighed. 

_To: AdamantTrees  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Galadriel,_

_Thank you. I'm available today and can find time any day this weekend. Next week is the last week before finals, and I'm swamped, but I might be able to find something in the evening._

_Bilbo  
_

He checked the time, closed his laptop, and went out. _Time to stock the fridge._ In the car, he listened to the modern rock station, surprising himself with his ability to sing along to most of the music. 

As Bilbo was on the way home from the grocery store, Thorin called. 

"Hey," Thorin said. "I think we're done with this. Or, as done as we're getting, at least. What are you doing for dinner? Should I come there or do you want to come here?"

Bilbo's phone pinged and he glanced at it. The notification bar showed: [Email from AdamantTrees] Dear Bilbo …

"I'm driving home," Bilbo said. "How about I unpack the five tons of groceries I got and then call you when I can talk?"

"I'm about to take a shower, so give me about ten minutes?"

As soon as he parked, Bilbo checked Galadriel's email.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: Adamant Trees_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_My contacts can meet with you this afternoon between 2 and 3, here at Lorien. They're also available all weekend, if today is not convenient._

_Galadriel  
_

Bilbo looked at himself in the mirror. "Better to get it over with early, right?" His reflection didn't have an answer.

_To: Adamant Trees  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Galadriel,_

_I'll be there at 2._

_Bilbo  
_

After putting the groceries away, he called Thorin back. 

"Hello dear," he said, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. "I think you should come here for the weekend. You've been cooped up in your house for ages."

Thorin chuckled. "That's true, and all I've had to look at besides ancient papers is Dwalin's ugly mug." 

Bilbo heard Dwalin shouting in the background, and laughed. "Why not bring him along? We could go out for dinner? I've got something I need to get done at Lorien until about 3 and Frodo won't get home from school until at least 5:30, so let's plan on meeting back here sometime this afternoon."

"That sounds good," Thorin said. "Any idea what you'll want for dinner?"

"None," Bilbo said, turning the glass around on the counter and watching the way the condensation left wet streaks. "Surprise me."

Bilbo made a quick sandwich from leftover roast chicken and cole slaw, then packed his laptop and a notebook into his bag. The drive to Lorien felt oddly long, although traffic was light. Traffic in the other direction was much heavier; he entertained himself by keeping an eye out for Thorin's car. He hadn't seen it by the time he got to his off ramp. _It's not like you could really see any one car in that scrum._

He pulled into his parking place on the Grasphalt at Lorien and sighed when he realized that he didn't know where he was supposed to go.

"You're early," Haldir said. He was standing at the back of Bilbo's car.

"How the hell – no, you know what? Never mind." Bilbo pulled his bag over his shoulder. "Is there time for a cup of coffee, do you think?"

Haldir smiled. "My lady will be pleased to offer you refreshments. Please follow me."

Bilbo pointed toward the path leading to the cafeteria. "No, I meant… Right. Never mind." He followed Haldir, then asked, "Do you know anything about the people I'm meeting?"

Haldir stopped and turned to him, his face grave and calm. "Dr Nenya would _never_ do something to put you at risk. The people she has contacted are honorable and trustworthy and you are in very good hands." He paused, a sudden rush of humor lightening his expression. "Although they're not necessarily people which your other friends will be pleased to know you're meeting. Do tell me how our friends at the FBI react when they find out."

He was resolutely silent for the rest of the walk to Galadriel's house.

Galadriel met him at her door, her face bright and open. "I am very pleased you came early enough for us to have a treat. I have coffee that Celeborn roasted yesterday and some delicious fruit bread. Have a seat and I'll bring them." She led him to the living room, then swept off deeper into the house.

The coffee was delicious, and the bread was thick slices of a delicately flavored mix of grapefruit and early raspberries with poppy seeds which Galadriel had toasted, then slathered with butter. 

"Okay," Bilbo said, after she insisted he eat three slices of the bread. "What are you fattening me up for?"

She laughed and leaned back in her chair. "Really, I just thought you'd appreciate the food. I love my husband, but sometimes he's much too pragmatic about things like pastry and treats."

He nodded. "Do you have the recipe?"

She smiled and handed him a sheet of paper. "I thought you'd ask." She watched him put the recipe in his bag, then said, "I have asked three men here to meet with you. The organization with which they are associated is very eager to have your help in dealing with Mr Gogol." 

Bilbo crossed his legs. "While I'm willing – obviously – to do this, I'm confused about why we can't bring the FBI in. I mean, they're your grandchildren."

She smiled and glanced at her toes; Bilbo noticed her toenails were each painted a different bright color. "They're young and overly excitable, I'm afraid, and this sort of thing requires a steadier head. Also, the Gogol family's crimes extend outside the US borders and the FBI can really only work inside it." 

"And that's where we come in," a very deep voice said from the doorway.

Bilbo swung around. Three men stood just inside the living room door. They looked relaxed, but aware. One was smiling at Galadriel, who stood up and hugged them all.

"Please," she said, "sit down. I'll bring more treats."

Two of the men sat down on the couch and leaned back; they looked like slightly mis-matched bookends. The third walked around the room, idly poking the various trinkets Galadriel and Celeborn had on their shelves. He picked up a small carved hippo and turned to his fellows. 

"Hey, she kept William!" He looked amused as he put the statue back on the shelf. 

One of the two men on the couch leaned forward and stuck his hand out. "Ondolinde Ecthelion, pleased to meet you." His voice was light and pleasant; his handshake was firm. The man sitting next to him reached out and offered his hand. 

"Gilgalad Ereinion," he said. His was the deep voice which had startled Bilbo. 

"I'm Bilbo Baggins," Bilbo said. "I – ah…"

"We've heard about the situation you're in," the third man said, sitting down in the chair Galadriel had been in. "Oh, sorry. Aegnor Tatyar." He pressed a hand to his chest and gave a half bow. "Anyway, Gal – Dr Nenya has explained some of what you're involved in. We believe that we – you and our organization – can help each other."

Bilbo blinked at him, then at the other two men. "And what organization is that, exactly?"

"Ah good, you've – Aegnor, you know that's my favorite chair." Galadriel set a large tray filled with refreshments on the table. "Get up." She crossed her arms and then laughed when Tatyar settled more firmly into the chair.

The next few minutes were filled with the bustle of filling plates and cups. When everyone was served, Galadriel sat down in a chair that Ereinion brought in from another room. 

She turned to Bilbo. "As for your question, these men are people I met many years ago, through other institutions with which I worked. Currently, they work for a multinational organization called Numenor." 

Ecthelion picked up the story. "Numenor has been following the Gogol family and its activities for decades. They have caused devastation and ruin to many; they control a large portion of the drug production and smuggling in Eastern Europe. Their organization is run entirely from here in the United States, which has made it difficult for us to target them."

It was Ereinion's turn. "However, the recent events in which you are involved have caused Azog Gogol, currently the head of the family, to expose himself as he has never done before. This opportunity is one we can not allow to slip away. We must bring his family – and the entire organization – to justice."

Bilbo looked back and forth between them. "I – yes, I can see how they're very bad people, but I'm unclear about several things. In what way is Azog more exposed because of me? Why can't you just arrest everyone who you know about who's involved with this in Eastern Europe? How do you have authority in multiple countries in Europe. I know there's an EU, but I didn't think there was a police force for the whole Union."

Tatyar smiled at Galadriel, who raised her eyebrows at him. "We occupy an unusual and complicated position inside the EU. We don't report to any one department directly, although we do, nominally, operate under the auspices of Europol."

Bilbo pursed his lips. "So, you're a shadow police force, operating without controls or oversight. And you want to conduct business here, in the United States?"

Ecthelion's mouth tilted up at one side. "Something like that. We do have professional connections to the various law enforcement organizations of the US."

Bilbo tapped his fingers on his knee. "Why can't the FBI deal with this?"

Ecthelion leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Largely because they don't have enough authority. Also, we're concerned that there are agents on the Gogol payroll."

Bilbo felt a momentary chill at that; he heard Fatima's voice asking if Elrohir was working for Azog. He ran a hand over his face and caught a glimpse of Galadriel's face. She was focused intently on him; her eyes looked concerned.

The room was silent for a long moment, then Bilbo sighed. "Well, I do want to get rid of him, so …" He opened his bag and pulled out his laptop. "You guys are sure this will work?"

"Regardless of what happens," Ereinion said, his voice firm, "we will ensure your safety and that of your loved ones."

***

Bilbo stopped off at the expensive organic grocery store on the way home from Lorien. He wandered through the aisles of vegetables, idly filling his basket with Mexican pineapples and large bags of spring salad greens. He bought three bottles of wine, then drove home, not listening particularly closely to the classical music playing on the radio.

Thorin was already at Bilbo's house when Bilbo parked. He met Bilbo outside and helped carry in the grocery bags, chattering about the things he and Dwalin had found in Thror's papers. Bilbo smiled and made encouraging sounds, but found that he wasn't quite able to remember everything that Thorin said.

Eventually, they sat down on the couch in the living room. Thorin leaned back against the arm of the couch, stretching his legs along the cushions. "Come here," he said. "You seem really stressed." 

Bilbo huffed, but curled up so his head was on Thorin's shoulder. Thorin was a warm blanket wrapped around him; he ran a hand gently up and down Bilbo's back. They lay together and Bilbo felt his tension seeping out of him.

"Is it just finals, or are you worried about … something else?" Thorin's voice was soft. 

"I hate Finals Week nearly as much as my students do," Bilbo said, wrapping an arm tightly around Thorin's chest. 

"You haven't heard anything more from Azog or Smaug, have you?" Thorin rubbed his cheek against Bilbo's hair.

"No," Bilbo said. _Does hearing from that student count as hearing from Azog? Maybe…_ He stretched slightly, then settled back against Thorin. "There are other things, things we should probably talk about, but I don't want to deal with them now."

Thorin's body turned to stone under Bilbo's. "You _have_ heard from him, haven't you?"

Bilbo lifted his head and looked into Thorin's eyes. "Not really, no." He sighed at Thorin's stiff expression. "I thought we could spend tomorrow talking about what we should do about Azog."

"We?" Thorin's voice was smaller than Bilbo expected.

"Oh, Thorin," Bilbo said, wrapping himself as tightly around Thorin as he could. "Yes, we. We're in this together, right?"

Thorin's arms closed around Bilbo, one hand sliding into the hair at the nape of Bilbo's neck. "For as long as you'll have me," Thorin whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that [fruit bread](https://smittenkitchen.com/2008/04/lemon-yogurt-anything-cake/)? I haven't made it, but I'm surely going to. It looks amazing.
> 
> [William](http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/544227) is beloved by many. You can get your own [here](http://store.metmuseum.org/sculpture/statuette-of-a-hippopotamus-sculpture/invt/06003222).
> 
> [Europol](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Europol) is a real thing. I don't think it has this branch, though. 
> 
> And seriously, have you ever looked at what the elves got up to? They have no room to talk about other Tolkien races being bad. Yikes.


	107. One Hundred Seven - Telling Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That went well. No one died, at least.

Over dinner, while Frodo and Thorin discussed Frodo's history class project, Bilbo realized two things. The first was that he was actually, truly, and completely happy; his family was together and things were good. The second was that he didn't know what to tell Thorin about his and Galadriel's plans for what to do about Azog.

He tried to think of a way to say, "I'm going to go talk to him in person." without Thorin losing his temper. _This is something Galadriel didn't plan for. How unexpected._

After dinner, Bilbo and Thorin settled down in the living room. Bilbo brought the last of the lab reports and other un-graded class work, as well as a stack of papers he hadn't had time to read, but needed to at least skim before the end of the year. He sank into the overstuffed chair and propped the souvenir lap desk his parents had brought him from Santorini on his lap. "I can't wait until this is over."

"Only one more week, right?" Thorin said, as he followed Bilbo into the room, carrying a tray with a tea pot and a plate of cookies.

"Mmm, nearly three." Bilbo sipped his tea. "Next week is all last minute reviews and long hours being harassed by students who haven't studied all year. After that is Finals Week itself, always a joy. Then the week after that I have to spend locked in a room doing nothing but grading so that the final grades can go up online by the deadline." He smiled at Thorin. "And then I'm done for the summer. Except for my own experiments, of course."

Thorin stared at him, then nodded, looking a little taken aback. "How do you know they haven't studied all year?"

Bilbo laughed. "Well, they haven't come to class reliably and they're not doing well in lab or on tests and quizzes. And they'll show up in office hours at the end of the year, angry about their bad grade, insisting that I _have_ to give them extra credit or something." He shrugged. "At least this year, I've got Beorn instead of Lobelia. She used to deliberately pick screaming fights with some of her students."

Thorin leaned on the door frame. "How is she? You haven't said anything about her in ages."

"I _have_ been a bit distracted," Bilbo said. "I think she's doing fine. Mom hasn't said anything about her either, which leads me to believe that Lobelia hasn't caused any real trouble recently." _This probably means she's going to show up in the middle of finals._

Thorin left, but came back with a notebook and a small guitar. "If I play music, will it be distracting?" 

Bilbo looked up again. "What? Oh, no, I don't think so."

Thorin sat on the couch and flipped the notebook open. He rubbed his eyes, then picked up a pair of reading glasses he'd left on the coffee table and slid them onto his nose. Bilbo glanced up at the movement, then paused, struck by the image. 

Thorin sat half turned on the couch, the notebook spread open on the couch arm. His hair fell over his shoulders, rich and dark with seams of silver flashing through it; the two braids he always wore were just visible between the heavy strands. He held the guitar on his lap, fingers idly moving over the strings as he read whatever was in the notebook. 

He had on an old thermal-knit henley with the sleeves pushed up; the muscles in his forearms shifted as he silently tried chords on the guitar. He'd changed from jeans to soft sweatpants which were slightly too long; only his toes showed under the hems. 

Bilbo watched, struck by how different his life was, how amazing it was to sit here in his own living room and have _Thorin Durin_ comfortable and homey on his couch.

Thorin glanced up, his eyes very blue above the reading glasses. "What?" 

Bilbo smiled. "Nothing. I love you."

Thorin looked confused but pleased. "I love you, too."

Bilbo turned back to his work, smiling. _Maybe we'll make it through all of this._

After a little while, Thorin started playing scraps of melody; he'd play for a moment or two, then stop and write something in his notes, then play again. After the first time, Bilbo ignored it.

After an hour and a half, Bilbo set aside the now-finished class work. "Well, that part's done, thank fuck." He stretched, feeling his back loosen as he moved. "Time for a break and a snack. How're you doing?"

Thorin smiled at him. "Not bad. I got the rough bits of this song worked out, I think. I'll send it to Fili to see what he thinks." He set the guitar aside. "Want me to make more tea?"

The next morning, Bilbo got up before everyone else. _Time for a big breakfast._ He made popover batter, and while it was resting, started scones. When the oven was hot enough, he slid the popovers in and set the timer on his phone. 

_What're we eating for dinner? What leftovers do we have?_ He stuck his head in the fridge and poked at the various containers. _I could make little pies…_ It didn't take long to make pie crust, which he wrapped in cling film and put in the fridge to wait. 

As he started a second pot of coffee, he heard noises down the hall. Thorin and Frodo each stumbled into the kitchen; for one moment, they looked so similar that Bilbo felt his chest tighten. Frodo slumped at the table, but Thorin ambled to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup, wrapping an arm around Bilbo's waist and kissing the top of his head. 

"G'morning," he rumbled. 

"When's breffas gonna be ready?" Frodo whined into the table.

Bilbo laughed and checked his phone. "Another three minutes, kiddo. Will you survive? It's popovers."

Frodo tipped his head to the side and smiled up at him. "Yay, popovers." He sat up. "I'm so tired. We didn't get to sleep until nearly two."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "I won't ask what you were doing."

Frodo rubbed his eyes, then ran his fingers through his hair. "We got my history thing finished and Sam's is nearly done. Rosie went to bed early."

Bilbo slid the scones into the oven when he took the popovers out, then they all settled in to eat. When they were done, Frodo gathered the plates and rinsed them. "I was thinking of going out to Emeryville today, with Rosie and Sam. Sam's mom said she'd drive, if it's okay with you."

Bilbo nodded. "As long as your schoolwork's done. Be home for dinner. I'm making leftover pie."

Frodo left an hour later, already laughing about the movie he and his friends were going to see.

Bilbo finished cleaning the kitchen, setting the pie crust he'd parbaked on the stove top to cool. Just as he was drying his hands, Thorin came into the room.

"So, you were going to talk to me about Azog?" Thorin leaned against the counter. 

Bilbo sighed. "Yes. Ah, let's go sit in the living room?"

They settled on the couch together and Bilbo pulled in a deep breath. "Really, I guess I should start with my boss at Lorien. Her name is Galadriel Nenya and she's apparently not exactly what I thought she was?" He shifted and tucked one leg under himself.

"Okay," Thorin said. "But what does this have to do with Azog?"

"I'll get there," Bilbo replied. "Do you remember me saying that her staff seem to know a lot about our FBI agents and what they're doing? So, Elladan and Elrohir are her grandsons, for one thing. And somehow, Haldir and the rest of the security at Lorien are – well, _were_ members of some elite military group."

"They're .. wait, what? And who's Haldir?"

Bilbo ran a hand over his face. "Okay, right. So, Galadriel, the lead scientist and researcher at Lorien, the company I work for on the side? Her daughter married Elrond Peredhil. They had three children, Elrohir and Elladan, and Arwen. Who," he laughed, "works at my college. She runs the science stockroom and the supply department."

"Elrond Peredhil is Frodo's therapist, right? I remember you and those two saying something about him and Frodo when they came over the first time, but I wasn't really paying attention." Thorin leaned forward. 

"Right. Yes, and they asked for this case because of that, but they don't talk to their father about him. I mean, there's no privacy breach or anything."

Thorin nodded. "That's good."

"Yeah. So, Haldir runs the security at Lorien. It's pretty tight – there's really no way in or out that they aren't watching. He's ex-military, all of his crew is." Bilbo wished he'd brought coffee with him. Anyway, they know all about Azog –" 

"You _told_ them?"

"No, they knew already. They know all about the FBI and they've been trying to stop the Gogol family for a long time." Bilbo thought for a minute. "It's odd, actually. They sounded like they'd been fighting them all their lives, but … well, I guess I _don't_ know how old Galadriel is." 

"How did they know about Azog's family?" Thorin looked tense.

"I don't know. I'm not sure it matters, Thorin. What matters is that they're helping me – us – with him." Bilbo put a hand on Thorin's arm, not surprised that it felt like iron. "I met with Galadriel yesterday. She knows some people who are part of a law enforcement agency with international ties. They're active in Europe –"

"Why can't the FBI deal with this?"

"I asked that. They said that they're worried that there are people on Azog's payroll in the FBI and also the Gogol's have an active drug production and smuggling operation in Albania. They've been getting the drugs to the US, but Tatyar said that they don't know for sure what the method is." Bilbo smiled up at Thorin. "I've been thinking, given our recent adventures in archeological discoveries, if the drugs might not be coming into the country as archeological or other 'fragile' shipments."

Thorin looked thoughtful. "Maybe? I don't know enough about how Customs works to know if that's reasonable."

"Anyway, they looked interested when I suggested it." 

"What else did you talk about?" Thorin asked.

Bilbo blinked. "There were three of them. Their names were very European, very complicated." He smiled at his hands. "Nothing as simple as a Baggins. Anyway, they said that they haven't seen Azog this exposed in years, if ever, and it's because of how he's reacting to me."

Thorin stiffened. "To you?"

 _Here we go._ "Yes." Bilbo took a deep breath. "The thing is, they can't get anyone to include him in their confessions. No matter what, he keeps getting away with things because he's never directly named. Usually, he doesn't even comment on things his family or their organization is involved with." 

Thorin's lips were flat and his eyes narrow. "So?"

"So, now he's actually involved. Suddenly, he's got people out stalking me – no, Thorin, stop. Not anymore, he's – " Bilbo closed his mouth and tried again. "Ah, These European police say they've got better surveillance than the FBI." He took Thorin's hand. "So, they told me that the only way we can get Azog is to make him actually confess."

Thorin stared. "What, like admit that he's a murdering shitbag?"

Bilbo snorted. "Something like that."

"Okay, sure. But what does this have to do with you?"

"We're hoping he invites me on his show." Bilbo's voice was soft.

" _WHAT!?_ " Thorin reared back, face a mask of fury.

"He could ask to talk in private. That would be much less useful, because I'd have to wear a wire. On his show, everything's very public." Bilbo sat still, watching the emotions flare across Thorin's face. 

"You are NOT going to be anywhere near that man, do you hear me? I won't let you. It's not safe, you'll be …" Thorin stopped, panting.

Unexpectedly, Bilbo felt very calm. "Actually, you can't tell me whether or not I do this. And honestly, Thorin, if anyone's going to never go near him again, it's you. I won't have it." He leaned forward and lifted Thorin's chin, looking directly into his eyes. "I want to do this, for you and for us. He'll just be hanging over our heads for the rest of our lives if we don't deal with it."

Thorin pulled back. "I'll – " He stopped, his mouth partly open. His face crumpled and he pressed his hands to his eyes. "Bilbo, if he … if you …"

Bilbo leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Thorin, letting his head rest in the cradle of Bilbo's shoulder. "It'll be okay, Thorin." _I hope._

They sat quietly for a while, then Bilbo pulled back a bit to peer into Thorin's face. "Let's go to bed." 

Thorin nodded. They huddled together, pressed against each other from their chests down to their tangled together feet. One of Thorin's arms was wrapped so tightly around Bilbo's chest it was slightly hard to breath and his other hand had buried itself in Bilbo's hair. He'd pressed his cheek to the top of Bilbo's head and was whispering something too quietly for Bilbo to hear. 

Some time later, long after Bilbo had drifted into a half-sleep, Thorin asked, "When are you going?" 

Bilbo shrugged. "I don't know. He hasn't replied yet. Well." He chuckled. "Not directly, at least." 

Thorin raised an eyebrow and Bilbo smiled.

"I emailed him and said we should talk, and then the next day, some big kid at school came and tried to intimidate me into letting Azog say when and where we should meet. I told him to tell Azog that I'm not that stupid, thanks."

Thorin didn't look any happier. "And you haven't heard anything else?"

"Not yet." Bilbo snuggled into Thorin's bulk. "I'll let you know when I do."

They woke up to Frodo shouting in the hallway. "Bilbo? Thorin?"

"Oh god, right. I still have to make the rest of the pie," Bilbo groaned. He rolled onto his back. "I'm coming," he shouted back to Frodo. "Just a minute."

"Oh gross," Frodo said, just out of sight of the door. "I don't want to know what you were doing."

"Thanks kid," Bilbo said, under his breath. "The feeling's entirely mutual."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Popovers](http://www.thekitchn.com/how-to-make-popovers-171064)
> 
> I make these - I _love_ these. Delicious.


	108. One Hundred Eight – More Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo watches Azog's show, then has a series of increasingly distressing conversations.

After dinner, Bilbo brought Thorin to his office and shut the door. 

"I've been thinking," he said. "I don't know anything about Azog's show. Do you?"

Thorin glowered at his feet. "No."

"I think I should watch a couple of … episodes? What do you – " Bilbo looked at the tension in Thorin's face and amended his question. "What are they called?"

"I don't know." Thorin crossed his arms. 

Bilbo sighed. "You don't have to do this with me, but I think I have to watch them. At least one or two."

"I don't want to," Thorin said, now glaring over Bilbo's shoulder at his computer screen, "but I don't want you to do it alone."

"Oookay," Bilbo said, feeling his eyebrows go up. "Should I get us something to have while we watch? Tea?"

Thorin pulled in a deep breath. He looked at Bilbo; his expression was now determined and firm. "Tea sounds good. And then let's see what the asshole does with his time."

Bilbo snorted. "Sounds like a plan. I was thinking we should do it here, rather than on one of our laptops in the living room." He hugged Thorin; he listened to the steady beat of Thorin's heart as Thorin's arms wrapped around him. After a long moment, he pulled away and said, "Okay. Tea. I'll be right back."

Half an hour later, they sat in front of Bilbo's computer. Bilbo typed in 'Azog Gundabad show' into Google and they stared at the list of links which appeared. 

"Well. Let's start at the beginning, right?" Bilbo clicked on the link to the Gundabad YouTube channel. "His most recent video?" At Thorin's continued silence, Bilbo shrugged and clicked play.

The screen filled with bats pouring out of what looked like a fantasy mountain fortress, flying everywhere, their eyes reflecting red and yellow lights. They formed into the letters GUNDABAD and as they solidified into the shapes of the letters, the screen behind them faded to white, which then bled into and overwhelmed the black letters. 

Short video clips of celebrities looking their worst flashed across the screen. Background music with a heavy beat and strings played over all the clips. As the music crested, the title hit the screen one word at a time:

' _BOTTOM OF THE BARREL_ '

Bilbo snorted, pausing the video. " _That's_ what it's called? And people take it seriously? I'm clearly out of touch with the 'youth of today'." He hit play again.

The clips faded and the screen showed a round stage mostly surrounded by a screaming audience. There were large comfortable looking chairs and a few small couches on the stage, arranged randomly around a large heavy desk. The desk held a large monitor and a small one; there were also monitors on stands next to some of the chairs.

Azog stood in the center of the stage, waving his hands to get the audience to shout louder. He was broad and muscular; his suit, though well cut and clearly expensive, did nothing to hide the fact that he was physically massive.

"Well aren't you all pieces of shit?" he crowed, and the noise from the audience managed – to Bilbo's dismay – to grow in volume. 

"We _are_ ," they responded, mostly in unison. 

Azog laughed, filling the space easily with the harsh and raucous sound. "Let's go over the rules," he bellowed. "All together now!" The crowd cheered.

"ONE!" Azog was capable of being heard over the crowd.

"WE HAVE NOTHING TO HIDE!" they shouted back at him. Azog beamed as the few people in the audience who didn't already have their phones out and recording pulled them out and pointed them at him.

"TWO!" He called to the crowd.

"NO HOLDS BARRED!" they returned, and their cheering rose in pitch again.

"THREE!"

"NO TAKE-BACKS!" 

Azog paused and propped his meaty hands on his hips, grinning around at his fans.

"WE'RE ALL ADULTS HERE!" The audience screamed this without Azog saying anything. He waited a moment, then held a hand up. The speed with which the audience stopped screaming made a chill run down Bilbo's back. 

"Now, in case there are noobs here," Azog said into the silence, "I'll make things clear. We have nothing to hide – you can and should record everything you see here. I don't care where you post it or how fast. If you want to live tweet this show, go for it." 

He strolled around the edge of the stage and faced a different part of the crowd, waving at someone who pointed their phone at him. "No holds barred – any question is fair game. Anything is fair game. Nothing is secret or sacred here."

He walked to the desk and leaned a hip on it. "No take-backs. Whatever you say here, you have to claim. No one gets to weasel around and say they didn't mean what they said. If you didn't mean it, why did you say it?"

He slid into the seat behind the desk and pressed a button, turning all the monitors on. "We're all adults here, so get used to it."

Bilbo pressed pause and glanced at Thorin. He was staring fixedly at the screen and looked a bit green. Bilbo put a hand on Thorin's cheek and turned him away from the screen. Thorin's eyes stuck to the image, then snapped to meet Bilbo's.

"Hey," Bilbo said. "This isn't something you actually have to do, you know."

Thorin swallowed, then said, his voice harsh, "I do. I have to. This is my fault."

Bilbo sighed and pulled Thorin into a hug. "The fact that Azog is an asshole is not your fault. It's even in his rules." Thorin made a questioning sound and Bilbo huffed a laugh into his shoulder. "'No take-backs.' He says shitty things, and therefore he means them." Bilbo shrugged. "So, clearly not your fault."

Thorin pulled away and rubbed his face with both hands. "I guess I mean that if I'd been –"

"Stop that. Stop." Bilbo covered Thorin's mouth with his hand. "He's a manipulative jerk. And a murderer and a drug dealer. None of that has anything to do with you." Bilbo pressed his hand harder against Thorin's mouth when he tried to open it. "Or, do you think that somehow if you'd stayed with him, he would magically not have joined his family business and been the cause of millions of miserable people?"

Thorin's shoulders fell and Bilbo felt a momentary jolt of sorrow. 

"I … I guess I hadn't really thought about it," Thorin said, his voice muffled against Bilbo's hand. He looked at Bilbo, who was surprised and pleased to see that Thorin's eyes were clear and steady. Bilbo leaned forward a bit and kissed him.

"Okay," Thorin said, sitting up. "I think I'm ready."

They clasped hands and Bilbo pressed play again.

The show consisted mainly of various celebrities coming on stage and having Azog ask them embarrassing questions. Sometimes he'd deliberately pick fights between the guests, often showing video clips to upset one or the other party. The audience would sometimes shout questions or rude things at the guests, but it seemed like most people on the show knew what to expect. 

The show wasn't very long, which surprised Bilbo. He'd assumed that TV shows were usually at least an hour long.

He and Thorin watched most of three videos, then Bilbo closed the window and turned his computer off. "That's enough of that, I think," he said. "It's bedtime."

That night, long after Thorin had fallen asleep – small wheezing sounds came from his nose pressed up against the pillow – Bilbo stared at the dark ceiling. _I have to make him angry._ He rolled over and tucked himself against Thorin's back. _I have to make him so angry he loses track of where he is and what he's saying._

They spent the next day away from the computer; Frodo had planned an all day gaming session with his friends, so Bilbo and Thorin drove to the coast. They bought freshly baked bread, local cheese, and grapes and sat on the tailgate of Thorin's truck and watched the ocean waves break as they ate.

After dinner, Bilbo checked his email. 

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: Ariuimadh_

_My dear Professor,_

_I would love to have you on my show. What an excellent opportunity for us to come to an understanding about the many things we share. I'm sure you can imagine what those might be._

_He is very demonstrative, after all._

_I have an opening in my schedule on June 18th._

_Azog  
_

Bilbo felt himself flush and sat back. "You can't let him make you mad," he muttered. "That's the opposite of what we're trying to do here." He checked his calendar and shook his head. "Nope."

_To: Ariuimadh  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_I'm sure that sounded suaver in your head than it did outside it._

_I am unavailable until after June 21. Try again.  
_

Bilbo forwarded both emails to Tatyar, then scrolled past the most recent sales emails from Hotels.com and the yarn store his mother preferred.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: Nori@ConsortBooks_

_So, did you learn anything else? What's the stone made of? Is it valuable? I mean, other than simply because it's old?_

_Tell me it's cursed! That would be amazing._

_Anyway, Smaug's been acting a little odd. He's got a book coming out in the next couple of months and usually he's all over us to get more publicity – that's why he was so willing to talk to the New Yorker – but he's fallen nearly silent. Any idea what's up?_

_I know you've got finals coming up, so I don't expect more than three words, but it would be great to know you're still above water. You should come for lunch again soon. I get lonely if I don't have ~~your brownies~~ your company every so often._

_Nori  
_

Bilbo started laughing. "Nori, you jerk." 

_To: Nori@ConsortBooks  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Oh all right, if you have to be paid in brownies, I guess I can rustle some up. You act like Sara never feeds you._

_As for Smaug, I've no idea what's up his nose. I've been a bit distracted. Yes, finals are coming up, but there's something going on with Azog as well, and I'm not sure I should talk to you about it in email. I –_

Bilbo thought for a moment, checked his calendar, then returned to typing.

_I can see you on Friday next week, if that works for you. Schedule a couple of hours, okay?_

_Bilbo  
_

After a moment's thought, Bilbo called his mother. He told her the bare bones of what was going on, and hung up, knowing his mother was about to spend an hour or more watching Azog's show as well. _Well, if anyone can come up with a way to trick Azog into showing his true colors, it's my mom._

Half of Monday was spent writing the final exams, then Thorin's family descended on them and Bilbo relaxed into watching Fili and Kili bounce musical ideas back and forth with Thorin while Dis sat with Bell and Hamfast and discussed urban gardening and the need for better nutrition in children.

On Tuesday, Bilbo drove to Lorien. After getting off the freeway in Berkeley, he realized a car was following him. He drove slowly on the city streets, making a few random turns; the dark sedan remained firmly behind him the whole time. Just as he was preparing to make a mad dash to the Lorien gates, a second sedan pulled up next to him. Erestor glared at him from the front seat. He pointed at a small café on the corner and Bilbo sighed.

He parked; the dark sedan parked behind him and Elrohir and Elladan climbed out of it. Erestor came walking around the corner from where he'd parked and held the café door open.

Bilbo crossed his arms. "You could have just called me, you know. Following me like that wasn't very nice."

Elrohir pinched his nose. "Please, Bilbo, just let us talk to you?"

The café was small and very empty. The young lady behind the cash register made their drinks, then disappeared into the back, letting the swinging door close behind her. 

"You're not making me feel more comfortable," Bilbo said, sitting down in the window with his cup of coffee and one of the morning buns from the pastry case. Elladan sat across from him and Elrohir sat at the next table with Erestor. Elrohir sat facing the window and his eyes never stopped scanning outside.

"I'm sorry," Elladan said, "but we don't know who's listening and where, so we had to get you on your own." He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward slightly. "We know you're working with my grandmother – we're not stupid. And we're pretty sure she's gotten in touch with Numenor again."

Bilbo sat still, hearing the echo of Ecthelion's voice saying that there were probably people in the FBI who were being paid by Azog, or at least by his family. "And?"

"Numenor isn't what Grandmother thinks," Elrohir said, his voice tight. "I know she thinks it's all good people, and I'm sure many of the people working for Numenor are good, but the organization as a whole is, well – " He paused and glanced away from the window. "Let's just say that the man who runs it comes from one of the worst types of hardline secret police organizations in the world."

"Who, Tatyar?" Bilbo realized his mistake as soon as Elladan's fingers tightened.

"What, Uncle Aegnor?" Elrohir shook his head. "No, he's like Grandmother, he's fine. No, the man who's actually in charge came from nowhere that can be traced. He showed up as an adult, running several secret police organizations from inside the Iron Curtain – and then later, oddly, the Bamboo Curtain. All of those organizations collapsed from inside, we have no idea what happened to them and why." 

Bilbo glanced back and forth between Elladan and Elrohir. "What do you mean, 'Uncle'?"

Erestor smirked as Elladan ran a hand down the back of his neck. "He's actually our Grand Uncle. He's Grandmother's oldest brother."

Bilbo stared at him. "You have a very strange family."

"You have _no idea_ ," Erestor said.

"Okay," Bilbo said, "so the guy who's running Numenor used to work – wait, how old is he? The Iron Curtain hasn't been a thing since the '90s."

"We don't know, but we think he's in his 50s or 60s." Elladan breathed deeply. "Look, he's bad news, okay?"

"Just because he used to work for the USSR doesn't mean he's evil," Bilbo said. "That was a long time ago – can't he have … I don't know, had a change of heart?"

"This man has been at the center of too many mysterious political collapses for us – the FBI and the CIA and the NSA – to ever trust him, Bilbo." Elrohir looked grim. "He, and Numenor, have been looking for years for a way to operate on US soil, and it's a bad idea."

Bilbo looked back and forth between the three men. "Tatyar said that they're working for Europol."

"I'm sure they have worked with Europol," Elladan said, "but Numenor isn't altruistic. If Sauron has taken an interest in you, you can bet that there's something unpleasant behind it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see. First, [this](https://youtu.be/yN1rOvKPAPI) is the type of music I was thinking of as the opening music for "Bottom of the Barrel". 
> 
> (Isn't that a great name for the show? My daughter thought of it. She also says that the Gundabad Choir is called Hoard's Chords, the announcments videos are called Words from Our Leader, and From the Hoard is the fanmail board. I got the giggles thinking about a Gundabad Choir, really.)
> 
> Also, [The Iron Curtain](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iron_Curtain) and [The Bamboo Curtain](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bamboo_Curtain) were interesting and complicated things. You'll note, in the Iron Curtain article, that Albania was contentious all the way through, and that there was a large number of Albanians desperate to get OUT of there in about the '90s.
> 
> And lastly, I hope the American readers of mine had a good Turkey Day and that the non-USians had a great Thursday!


	109. One Hundred Nine – Tell Me More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only a few things are really important. Everything else is extraneous. It's up to you to figure out which is which.

Bilbo stared at Elladan. "Who's Sauron?"

Elladan sighed deeply. "He's the man who actually runs Numenor. We don't have absolute proof of his past, but he's been personally involved with the destruction of at least two powerful secret police organizations. We don't know what he's doing with Numenor."

Bilbo tapped his fingers on the table. "Okay, so what has Numenor done? I mean, surely you guys know that, right? There's some records of their past, their actions? What do they do?"

Erestor sent him a grin. "They're great," he said. He shrugged his shoulders at the sharp looks Elrohir and Elladan sent him. "No, really. They spearheaded an operation which brought down a large human trafficking ring just last year. They've been working for at least ten years and haven't shown signs of corruption at all. Every time they get involved, some large criminal group goes down."

Bilbo looked back and forth between him and his partners. "So, you're saying they're great, but these two disagree? Do you guys know something he doesn't? Has Numenor done anything bad?"

Elladan looked at his fingers spread out on the tabletop and Elrohir glared out the window. Bilbo waited, then sighed and stood up.

"If all you have to go on is this man Sauron's past, then I don't see how that should affect what I do. So, he was involved in things on the other side of the Cold War. That was a _long time ago_. You guys were barely born when the Berlin Wall came down, right?" He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. "Tell me something. The organizations he 'destroyed' in the USSR and China? Were they doing good things or were they harmful?"

The two brothers were silent, so Bilbo shrugged again and walked to the swinging door in the back of the café. "Hey," he called through it. "We're done out here, so if you want to open up again, that'll be fine. The coffee was good and I loved the morning bun. Thanks."

As he passed their table, Erestor put a hand out and stopped him. "Just – be careful, okay? Even if Sauron isn't the world-destroying monster these guys think he is, it's a bad idea to allow non-US police organizations to operate here without oversight."

Bilbo looked into his face, then at the brothers. "Okay, look. I understand that and you're not wrong. It's a tricky bit of international law that they're … skimming. Can I ask you three a question?"

Elladan came and stood across the table from Bilbo. The three FBI agents nodded. 

"So, more than once, it's come up that there are probably people on the FBI who are on Azog's payroll," Bilbo said.

"And you think WE might be –" Elladan snarled, but Elrohir put a hand on his arm. 

Bilbo raised his brows. "Did I say that? No, I did not. I _do_ think it's a very valid concern. How else would Azog know enough about Frodo's family to send him that damned smashed boat? The obituary in the newspaper _didn't mention the name of the boat_ , so where'd he get the information?" He set his fists on his hips. "When I asked the people from Numenor why the FBI couldn't handle this issue, they had two things to say. One – that there _are_ people on Azog's payroll inside the FBI. Not that there _might be_ , but that there _are_. Two, they're trying to stop his organization from manufacturing and exporting some drug from Albania, where the FBI can't and doesn't operate." 

He stood glaring at them. "They have a valid reason to be involved, whether or not you like it. If you think there's another organization which should be helping, then that's your lookout, not mine. I'm only involved in this because I want Azog to leave me and my family the fuck alone."

Elrohir stood up and faced Bilbo, still keeping one hand on his brother's arm. "If they're certain there are FBI agents on Azog's payroll, then we will look into that. If you see them again, please ask them to forward us any information they might have. This is not something we take lightly. I know that this isn't – " He paused and pressed his lips together. "This isn't binding, but I promise, on my Grandmother's life, that we are not now and will never be dishonorable."

Bilbo sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I never thought it was any of you. And just so you know, Fatima was the first person I know of who wondered if there was a … mole in the FBI."

Elladan blanched. "I'll talk to her," he muttered.

Bilbo smiled. "Give her a call, sure, but don't forget that finals are in a week. She'll be a bit overwhelmed right now. She needs support, not more stress."

As Bilbo walked to his lab from his spot in Lorien's parking lot, he thought over what he'd learned. "Not much," he said under his breath. He sat down and tried to lose himself in the work that was due.

Before an hour had gone by, he realized that he wasn't getting anything done. He packed up his things and moved to his flet, where he opened Google and thought for a minute before typing 'Numenor' into the search bar.

There weren't many entries which were relevant – there appeared to be a punk rock band in the northeast with a similar name – but he did find a few links. The wiki page was thin, but had a few links he could follow.

Unexpectedly, the Europol link was more helpful. It did list partner organizations as well as the full text of official agreements between Europol and non-European countries. Bilbo downloaded the agreement with Albania. Numenor was mentioned in passing, but never named as an actual partner. 

He searched for the names of the people he'd met in Galadriel's living room and got nothing. As far as Google was concerned, they didn't exist. _Well, that's interesting._ Thoughtfully, he tried Galadriel, and then Celeborn. They both showed up, and he downloaded their CVs to look at later. 

Someone knocked on his door and he closed the browser. "Yes?"

Galadriel stuck her head around the door. "I saw your car and hoped I'd catch you." She slipped into the flet and shut the door. "Never mind about the chemistry right now - we have other scientists on the team who can keep that going and your name is on the papers regardless of any other work you do." She sat down on the other side of the table.

He half closed his laptop so he could see her face better. "I – thank you."

She tucked her heels up on the front edge of the chair and rested her chin on her knees. "I have been thinking about this situation and I think there are things you should know."

Bilbo held up a hand "How long a story is this going to be? Because if it's more than five minutes, I'm making tea first."

She laughed, the sound light and ringing. "At least one pot, and you'll probably want something to eat as well. Start the tea and I'll arrange for snacks." She pulled her phone from her pocket and started tapping the screen.

Before the tea was ready, Haldir let himself in, followed by two young people, each carrying a laden tray. One had pastries and sweets, while the other bore sandwiches, bowls of flavored chips and dips, and a small dish of devilled eggs. Haldir nodded to Bilbo, gave a half-bow to Galadriel, then guided his assistants back outside.

The electric kettle chimed and Bilbo startled slightly; Haldir's visit had been completely silent. Blinking and shaking his head, Bilbo poured the hot water into the large teapot his flet had sprouted when he started bringing cups of tea back from the cafeteria. 

Galadriel looked up at him from her full plate. "I am aware," she said, swallowing a bite, "that having Numenor operate in the United States is unconventional –" 

"At best," Bilbo said firmly. "Given that we're not a member of the EU."

She shrugged. "Technically, they don't operate under EU auspices." She finished half a sandwich and took a sip from her tea mug. 

Bilbo snorted around a large bite of his own sandwich. "I'm not sure that's reassuring," he said when he swallowed. 

"My family has very distant connections to many of the leaders of Numenor." She set her now empty plate aside and refilled her cup. "Some of my family have been, historically, less law abiding than I. While everyone I am now in contact with is certainly …" She paused and gazed at a large poster on the wall of gemstone chemistry. "We have varying motivations, but we're all firmly working to make the world a better place. I'm pleased and proud to see my grandchildren continuing this tradition." 

"Yes," Bilbo said, pushing his own empty plate away. "They're good kids." 

She smiled at him. "Arwen thinks very well of you." 

The room was silent for a moment; Bilbo tried to think of a way to ask the question burning in his mind, but couldn't. Eventually, Galadriel heaved a sigh and spoke again. 

"I think that we should have everyone meet here this evening. Does that sound good to you, or are you busy?"

"I – everyone?" Bilbo's brows creased.

"I know that the FBI will need to be involved, as does Numenor." She stood, brushing crumbs off her shirt. "If they meet here, a neutral ground, then the rest of the plan can be finalized. I thought that having the meeting late in the evening might be a good idea. 8 o'clock? Or would you rather it be later?"

He coughed. "8 will do for me."

***

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: Ariuimadh_

_My dear Professor,_

_Having checked my schedule and matched it to yours, I have determined that the entire week from Monday, June 22nd through Sunday, June 28th will be at your disposal._

_I am quite delighted at the coming opportunity for us to get to know each other better._

_Your friend, A  
_

Bilbo rubbed his eyes. _Oh goodie. At least it's soon, right?_

He texted Thorin to tell him that he'd be staying late at Lorien, then cleared his mind with some quick jumping jacks in the middle of the room and turned to focus on catching up on school committee emails. When he was as caught up as he could stand, he stood to go to the cafeteria to see if there was anything to eat. To his surprise, a short slender woman stood outside his door; she bowed when Bilbo saw her.

"I am Mithrellas," she said. "My lady said you might be hungry before this evening's meeting. The cafeteria is open, of course, but if you'd like to order something from one of the local restaurants, please do. We would be honored for you to have your order billed to our account." She centered herself over her feet, managing to look imposing and uncomfortable at the same time.

Bilbo stared, still halfway through the door. "I. Alright." Bilbo stepped back inside, gesturing to Mithrellas to follow him. "Where do you recommend?"

"Musashi is excellent," she said.

Bilbo sat on the arm of one of the soft chairs in the room. "And do I just order online or are you hiding menus somewhere in your pockets?"

She smiled and pressed a spot on one of the walls, revealing a narrow cabinet Bilbo had never seen. "Here," she said, selecting a menu and handing it to him. "The chirashi is particularly nice."

At 7:45, Bilbo closed his laptop and slid it into his bag. He was not surprised to find Mithrellas waiting outside his flet again. She smiled and silently led him down yet more paths he'd never explored. The paths opened out onto a large, single room flet; wide windows poured yellow light onto the nearby trees. 

"Bilbo!' He turned to see Erestor trotting past the guide assigned to the FBI group. "You work here?" Erestor waved a hand at their surroundings. "I didn't know you could do chemistry in a forest!"

Bilbo laughed and led the way into the meeting room. 

After stiff introductions, everyone sat down. Bilbo was internally amused to see that the FBI contingent all sat carefully together, while the Numenorians sat less bunched up. Erestor sat so that he could see the door they'd come in through; this meant he was nearly sideways to the table. Bilbo saw that Ecthelion looked at Erestor's position approvingly. 

Tatyar leaned forward and handed Lindir a folder. "These are the plans we've drawn up, and," He slid another, larger, folder across the table. "This is information about the Gogol family's connections and activities in Albania and Eastern Europe." He paused while Lindir opened the first one and glanced at the contents. "As you can see, the plan is relatively straightforward."

Elladan and Elrohir leaned forward to read over Lindir's shoulder, while Erestor kept his eyes on the door. 

"Wait," Elladan said, looking at Gil-Galad. "That can't be right. You have no right to arrest anyone on US soil, especially a US citizen."

Within minutes, the room descended into a shouting match. Bilbo watched as Elladan and Elrohir ganged up on their grand uncle while Lindir listened stonily to Gil-Galad, who appeared to be explaining something about the political situation in Eastern Europe.

"Will you all SHUT THE HELL UP!?" Bilbo shouted. The room fell silent as everyone stared at him, standing at the foot of the table. "Great," he said, working to keep his hands from curling into fists. "Now. There are a few things that we agree on. One: we are all interested in stopping Azog Gogol and his family. Two: the only way to do this appears to be getting him to confess directly. Three – and this is the important one: the only person who can do this is one of his victims." He glared indiscriminately around the room. "I don't give a flying fuck what you all think of each other and whether or not you're politically acceptable. I just want my family out of danger." 

He crossed his arms. "So, since I have to choose a date between June 22nd and 28th to have this very public meeting, you'd better start focusing on the real issues."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [poster](http://www.compoundchem.com/2014/06/29/what-causes-the-colour-of-gemstones/) on Bilbo's flet wall. That site has so many cool posters, omg.
> 
> [Musashi](http://www.musashiofberkeley.com/index.html) has been there forever, but there's always a 2 hour wait, so I've never been. *sadface*
> 
> There really is an agreement between Europol and Albania.


	110. One Hundred Ten – Forward Movement, of a sort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting everyone on board with this plan isn't as easy as Bilbo expected.

Bilbo locked his front door behind himself and leaned back on it. _Maybe if I just ignore everything outside the house, it'll all go away._

"Bilbo? Is that you?" Thorin called from the living room. "I didn't know if you'd be hungry, so I made a plate for you." He came into the foyer. "Are you okay? You look wiped out." He held out his arms and, after Bilbo stepped into them, rested his chin on top of Bilbo's head.

Bilbo sighed and pressed his face into Thorin's chest. "You have no idea how childish people can be."

Thorin laughed; Bilbo felt it as vibrations deep in Thorin's chest. "Are you hungry?"

Bilbo shook his head – it was more like rotating his face around his nose, still pressed tightly to Thorin. "No. Are there cookies?"

Thorin laughed again. "If not, we can fix that pretty quickly."

That night, Bilbo pretended that he and Thorin didn't have anything to do more important than showing each other just how much they loved each other.

The next day was busy. Bilbo taught lecture in all three classes he was teaching that quarter.

"Yes, I'll have extra office hours," he said, sighing. "I told you when they are. I can add some on Friday of this week, if you want, and I'll be holding my usual hours next week." He held up a hand. " _Yes,_ , the lectures next week will be review, never fear."

He waited until everyone else left the classroom and slumped down into the random chair someone had brought to the front.

"Professor?" 

He looked up to see Fatima leaning through the door. "Yes?" he said.

She came through the door and shut it behind herself. "You just look tired. Uh, and I had a question."

He rubbed his face. "The end of the school year's always busy and this year I'm a little more overwhelmed than usual. What's your question? Your grades are fine – I finished the marking over the weekend."

She lifted a shoulder and looked fixedly at the chalkboard. With a groan, he stood to erase the mechanisms he'd drawn all over it. "Have you heard anything from Elladan?"

Bilbo laughed, startled. "Oh, uh." He turned to look at her. "You haven't?"

She sent him a flat look and he chuckled again, thinking how much that look reminded him of his mother. 

"Okay," he said, smiling and picking up his bag. "Let's talk and walk? I saw him yesterday, in fact, and you were mentioned." 

She peeked up at him and he smiled. "He said he's going to email you and I reminded him that you're dealing with finals now, so he shouldn't talk about anything important. He's not allowed to give you more stress."

He unlocked his office and turned to her. "He's not in trouble, if that's what you're worried about."

She shrugged, but looked less worried than she had at first. 

His office was empty, except for Shelob, who was asleep in the corner of her tank. Bilbo opened his email and rubbed his hands together. "Okay," he said. "Let's get this started."

_To: Ariuimadh  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Tuesday, June 24th is the best day for me. Please email me details.  
_

Bilbo gazed at Shelob, who shifted slightly. 

_To: d.jarnfotor  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Dain,_

_So, some things have been happening and I think I need to talk to my lawyer. Can we meet sometime late this week or next?_

_Bilbo  
_

Then he packed up and went to his lab; he wanted to check in with Ori to make sure he was going to finish his project – and the thesis – in time for graduation.

When he got to the lab, Ori was there, but he wasn't working. He and Bofur sat at one of the benches, bent together over a notebook and an iPad. 

"… know where it's filmed…" Bofur muttered, poking at the iPad screen. 

Ori jotted something down in his notebook. "Okay," he said, "that's something to look at. Any idea where the – Bilbo!"

Bilbo glanced between them. "Hi, Bofur, how're you? I haven't seen you in a while."

Bofur smiled, tugging on the points of his hat. "Summer festival season is coming. I've been busy – Bifur's been helping."

"Oh," Bilbo said, sitting down. "Are you – do you travel around a lot?" 

Ori slid the iPad and notebook into his satchel, then pulled out a maroon pile of yarn. "We're going on a road trip over the summer," he said brightly. "He's got this van, it's great, there's a loft bed and he has camping stuff…"

Bilbo smiled and nodded as they explained their summer plans; Bofur gesturing broadly while Ori pointed out important bits with his knitting needles. 

After half an hour, Bilbo said, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but how's your thesis coming, Ori? I'm looking forward to seeing the finished version."

Ori dropped his knitting into his lap. "I think it'll be ready by Friday. That's enough time, right?"

Bilbo nodded. "Absolutely. I'm going to head home, so unless you need me for anything else…" 

Ori shook his head. "I'll email you if there's anything."

Bilbo drove home, carefully thinking of nothing but Ori's thesis and what he expected to see in it.

He spent the rest of the afternoon baking cookies. When Frodo got home, he gave him a plateful of chocolate chip cookies and a cup of coffee and sent him to his room to finish his schoolwork. Thorin came home in the late afternoon and found Bilbo sitting out in the back yard. 

"What's up?" Thorin sat on the wooden wall next to the vegetables.

"I have to talk to Frodo about what's going on," Bilbo said.

"Ah." Thorin reached out and took Bilbo's hand, rubbing his thumb over Bilbo's knuckles. "Have you – do you know when you're going to do this?"

Bilbo stood up. "What do you think about pizza for dinner? There's a good place up above the college. I'll pick up two Large pizzas."

Thorin nodded. "That sounds good. I don't like pineapple."

"Me, neither," Bilbo smiled, "but Frodo does, so I'll have it on half of one of them."

Frodo was enthusiastic about pizza and happily chattered over the meal; Bilbo was relieved to know that he didn't have to try to think of small talk. 

"After you've cleared the table," Bilbo said, "come and sit back down. I – there's something I have to talk to you about."

Frodo looked puzzled, but collapsed back into his chair. "Okay, what's up?"

Bilbo folded his hands together. "I've been in touch with Azog."

"Why?" Frodo's voice was flat. He glanced at Thorin, the glared at Bilbo.

"There isn't any way of connecting him to your – to the shooting." Bilbo tapped the table, thinking. "I've heard from some people – European police – that Azog's part of a large drug manufacturing and distribution ring in Albania. They want to put him in prison almost more than the FBI does."

"The Albanians?" Frodo glanced back and forth between Bilbo and Thorin again.

"No, the European police. They're called Numenor." Bilbo shifted in his seat, the warning from Elladan and Elrohir ringing in his ears. "They haven't been able to directly connect him with what's going on in Albania, because he's here. The FBI didn't know about –" 

"Or didn't care about," Thorin muttered. 

Bilbo tilted his head in agreement. "Or don't care about what goes on in Eastern Europe. They _do_ want to arrest him for the murder of a young boy many years ago."

Frodo recoiled. "Murder?"

_Shit._ "Yes, he was directly involved in the kidnapping and murder of a boy when … maybe twenty years ago."

"So why did he get away with it?" Frodo's arms were crossed tightly over his chest.

"Because he told his brothers to do it and they did, but they didn't admit that he'd told them." Thorin's voice was very quiet.

"So?"

Bilbo sighed. "So there was no actual proof that he was involved. Just like his son – "

Frodo sat forward. "Wait, you said he told _his brothers?_ "

Bilbo nodded. 

"And his _son_ is the one who shot me?"

"And Bolg won't admit that his father even knew about it, which actually might be the truth, as frustrating as that might be. Which all means that he's still not going to be arrested." Bilbo leaned his elbows on the table.

"So why are you talking to him?" Frodo looked mulish.

"I have heard, from more than one source, that if someone gets Azog to _confess_ , then all bets are off."

Thorin shook his head. "I've heard you say that twice now and it doesn't get better."

Frodo threw up his hands. "So you're just going to what? Walk up to him and ask him if he planned a fucking murder?"

Bilbo blinked. "I wasn't planning on being quite that blunt, but I am going to be talking to him."

"And how do you plan on doing that without getting murdered yourself?" Frodo didn't look angry anymore, he looked downright furious.

"I'm not going to do it in private," Bilbo said.

"You know what?" Frodo stood up. "You should have left me with fucking Uncle Rory and Aunt Gilda." He shoved back from the table and ran down the hallway. 

Bilbo and Thorin looked at each other. "That went … badly," Thorin said, after a silent minute.

Bilbo snorted. "Could have been better, yeah."

That night in bed, after Thorin had fallen asleep, Bilbo lay on his back and stared at his ceiling.

The next morning he drove to Lorien. On a whim, he stopped at the café the FBI had taken him to on Tuesday. The morning bun had been good. The girl behind the counter was the same one as before. 

"Not with anyone today?" she asked.

"Nah," he said, picking up his coffee and the bag with the bun. "They're not very good company." He turned to go, but she coughed behind him.

"Sir?" She sounded tentative.

He turned back, suddenly feeling exposed. "Yes?"

"Good luck." She nodded at him firmly, then swept away through the swinging door into the back.

_Oookay, that was weird._

At Lorien, he was able to concentrate on getting work done, which felt like a relief. He didn't see Galadriel, Haldir, or anyone else involved in the Numenor business all day. After lunch, he checked his email.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: Ariuimadh_

_The last Tuesday in June it is. I confess I'm excited to finally meet you in person. I do hope I live up to your expectations._

_I will, of course, pay all expenses incurred. I'd hate for you to strain your budget. I am aware that the state university system doesn't pay adequately._

_Yours, A  
_

Bilbo forwarded the email to Tatyar, then moved on. 

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: BellaBaggins_

_Darling,_

_Bungo and I have been thinking about your conundrum. He does seem like a tough nut to crack – his show is quite silly, isn't it? Although, the fact that he insists on such publicity and lack of censorship does rather work in our favor._

_We have watched several interviews of him from other shows. I think he hides it well, but he's quite unstable. He likes to be the best, the most powerful. I wonder if challenging him wouldn't be something to start with._

_Perhaps there's something at which he feels he's an expert, but with which you can disagree. I know you're capable of doing research._

_Have you spoken to Frodo about this yet? Thorin? How are they taking it?_

_Would you like us to come down to help? When are you planning on doing this?_

_All our love,_

_Mom  
_

Bilbo rubbed his fingers on the edge of his laptop, thinking. 

_To: BellaBaggins  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Mom,_

_We've finally settled on June 24th. I'll be finished with school by then, so I'll have the time. I still don't know where it's supposed to be, but I'm sure he'll let me know._

_I think you're right, but I wonder what I could provoke him about._

_Don't bother coming down here. I might send Frodo up to you, though. He hasn't taken it well at all. Thorin is unexpectedly calm about it._

_I love you both._

_Bilbo  
_

He went back to reading through the other scientists' data and entering it all in their chart, making sure to keep close track of any outliers. When his back started to ache, he checked the time. 

"Just time for a cup of coffee and then I'm going home." He stretched while the coffee maker in his office bubbled, then strolled back to his desk with his now full cup.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: d.jarnfotor_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_What possible trouble can you have gotten into now? I'm busy with a case until this weekend – can you meet next week at all? I know finals are coming up. Thorin might go bald with how much of his hair he's tearing out._

_Dain  
_

Bilbo grinned, but set the email aside for later. 

When he got home, Frodo and Thorin were sitting together in the living room. The guitar Fili had given Frodo was leaning against the couch and Fili himself was sitting opposite them. They all looked up when Bilbo came in, and for a moment, it looked like Thorin looked guilty, but he jumped up and said, "I meant to have dinner ready when you got home. I'm so sorry."

Bilbo laughed. "No, this is good. You guys keep talking about music or whatever. I'll go see if I can find something interesting in the fridge. You're staying, right, Fili?"

Fili nodded. "Miss one of your dinners? Sacrilege."

Bilbo laughed and wandered into the kitchen. Surely he had sausages. Sausages made into little meat balls with cherry tomatoes, artichoke hearts, and edamame all over pasta would be tasty and filling. He pulled out the sausages and started squeezing the meat out of the skins.

That evening, while the others plinked at something on their instruments, Bilbo opened Gmail.

_To: d.jarnfotor  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Dain,_

_I think it's time I made a will. I have it on good authority that you're an expert._

_Bilbo  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I use [Tollhouse](https://www.verybestbaking.com/recipes/18476/original-nestle-toll-house-chocolate-chip-cookies/).


	111. One Hundred Eleven – School's Nearly Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School's nearly over and Bilbo makes cookies. (Of course.)
> 
> Also, there are scheduling things worked out and plans being discussed. But cookies are the most important part.

Bilbo stuck his head into the living room, smiling at Fili showing Frodo how to hold down the guitar strings to make a chord. 

"Hey guys," Bilbo said, "I'm going to be in the kitchen. I usually make cookies for the staff and the rest of the department before the summer break, and I'm starting late this year. If you guys want to help, you're welcome."

Frodo shook his head, but with a smile; Bilbo felt his shoulders relax just a bit. _Maybe he won't stay mad at me._

Thorin looked up from his own laptop. "Will you need help?"

"Not really, but only helpers get to lick the bowls."

At that, Fili stood up. "Well, I'm very sorry Frodo, but you're on your own. I have been called to a higher purpose." 

Frodo snorted, but stood up as well. "I'm sure there's room for all of us, right, Uncle Bilbo?"

"Hey, I need to make about ten dozen cookies and maybe some fudge." Bilbo grinned toothily. "I'll take all the help I can get."

The next day, Bilbo walked into the Chemistry department office and set down the two large carrier bags he'd been holding. "Phew," he said, "I don't notice the stairs up here until I'm carrying something."

Esmerelda stood up. "Oh, is that the regular delivery?" She came around her desk to look.

Bilbo chuckled. "Yup. I had very enthusiastic help yesterday, so I got more made than I'd hoped." He began to set out small plastic containers, each filled with cookies, on the counter. "There should be one package for everyone, can you stick them in the mail boxes?"

She nodded and brought a stack of the packages to the bank of mail boxes. "I still think this is one of the best parts of the end of the school year."

Bilbo folded the bags, smiling. "I'm glad you like it. I've set your box behind the counter, and Gandalf's next to it. You got the first of the fudge as well."

"Oooh," she said, smiling over her shoulder. "Thank you!"

Bilbo walked down the hall to drop his bag in his office, then went to the stock room. "Hey Arwen," he called, as he shut the door behind himself. 

There was a clattering sound in the back and her voice called back, "Be right out!"

He poured himself a cup of coffee from the machine she always had running and sat at the hidden table in the corner. After several minutes, and some truly worrying glassware sounds, she strode around the corner of the nearest shelves and grinned at him. 

"Cookie time?"

He laughed, shoving a large plastic container her way. "Yup. And there's fudge. I had help."

She collapsed into a chair next to him and let her head fall backward. "Thank the heavens. Cookie time means that the year's nearly over."

He sighed. "Another crop gone."

She sat up and pulled the cookies close. "Hey, you made the mini snickerdoodles, score!" She picked one up and ate it, then dusted her hands off and closed the lid of the container. "You're looking down. What's going on?"

He propped his chin in his hand and looked at her. "How well do you know your grandmother?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Grandmama? Why?"

"I have discovered that she has hidden depths." He hesitated, not sure exactly what and how to say what he was thinking.

Arwen stood and poured herself a cup of coffee. When she'd added milk and sugar to her taste, she sat in the chair across from Bilbo and leaned forward. "Grandmama is wilier and wiser than most people I know. If she's helping you with – " Arwen waved a hand casually, "you know, whatever, then you're in good hands. She won't steer you wrong."

He looked at the table, his eyes tracing the old stains and chemical burns. "Good to know." 

They sat quietly for a minute, then she tapped the table with her knuckles. "So, help a girl out, what's she helping you with?"

He huffed. "Okay. She's helping me deal with …" He stopped speaking, suddenly aware of the fact that he couldn't see if anyone was listening. "With something for Thorin, actually," he said, unable to make his voice not sound slightly too loud. 

Arwen looked doubtful, then nodded. "That sounds reasonable. She's got a lot of interesting connections." She snagged a piece of scratch paper and a pen from the pile next to the coffee maker, jotted something down quickly, then shoved it across the table. "Are you two going away for the summer? Doesn't he have to finish the tour from last year?"

Bilbo, who'd started reading her nearly unintelligible scrawl, felt his chest tighten. _Finish …?_ "I'm sorry, what?"

She looked even more skeptical. "The band tour? They cut it short by three cities. They still owe those cities tour dates." Her hand pointed firmly to the paper.

 _Orc Horde?_ was what he finally read. He nodded, feeling unexpectedly exposed. "Ah." He coughed. "Do you know what cities?" 

She snatched the paper back and said, her tone bright and inappropriate for how cold he felt. "I think they're in the middle of the country. The Flyover States, you know." Her hand moved quickly over the paper, then she shoved it back at him.

He glanced at it. _Aragorn's got them on the run._ she'd written. _They're in the polisci dept but no worries._ Bilbo lifted his eyes to hers. She beamed at him. 

"So I was wondering if you were going to go with him on tour. It could be really interesting." She drank more of her coffee. "Next time I come over, you'll have to let me know. I'd love to get postcards."

He stood up, folding the paper into smaller and smaller squares, before shoving it in his pocket. "I think that's a great idea. Let's do that soon."

Feeling slightly dizzy, he walked down the hall to his office. Beorn was already halfway through his own office hours; there were four students sitting in a half circle around him. Shelob sat on Beorn's shoulder, idly poking one of her legs into his ear. As Bilbo watched, one of the students couldn't stop watching the tarantula. After a moment, she felt her own ear, then stared at her fingers. Bilbo caught an amused glance from Beorn, then turned back to his own desk.

His office hours started just as Beorn's ended and he spent the next two hours immersed in teaching. He felt the usual dismay when some of the questions were excruciatingly basic, but was pleased to see those students' expressions lighten with comprehension. When the last student left – firmly told by Bilbo that office hours had ended nearly half an hour before – Bilbo locked the door behind them and collapsed onto the couch. 

"By the end of finals," Beorn rumbled, "I'm looking forward to summer break just as much as they are."

Bilbo laughed. "Maybe even more. At least next year they move on to other subjects. I'll be doing this exact same dance next year." There was a very small peeping sound from Beorn's side of the room. Bilbo lifted his head. "What was that?"

"Elanor," Beorn said, lifting a tiny pale gold kitten from one of his pockets. "She's just old enough to start exploring." She proved his point by waving her little paws about as if trying to swim through the air. Beorn set her down outside Shelob's tank; the kitten stared in at the tarantula and patted the glass gently.

"Of course, you've got a kitten." Bilbo shook his head, smiling. "I've brought my lunch, but I'm going out for coffee. Want anything?"

After lunch, and a second two hour session with students, Bilbo twisted, stretching his lower back. "Nearly done," he said. He packed his computer away in his bag, then stopped, looking at Elanor, who was on Beorn's shoulder and half hidden by his hair and watching Bilbo. "Your hair is watching me," Bilbo said.

Beorn chuckled. "She's very observant." He turned his chair, holding Elanor so she didn't fall as he swiveled. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have room for a cat, would you?"

Bilbo backed to the door, holding both hands behind his back. "Oh no, now I see what you're up to. Nice try." He grinned and ducked out of the room, amused at Beorn's booming laughter.

At home, Bilbo started a batch of bread, then watched three more episodes of Azog's show, taking notes. _He certainly doesn't like being challenged. I wonder what he's going to try to talk to me about._

After punching the bread down and setting the loaves for their second rise, he checked his email.

_To: ProfBBaggins  
From: d.jarnfotor_

_Dear Bilbo,_

_Your will. Well, that is sensible, as a new parent. When can we meet next week? I'll come to you – it'll give me a chance to drop by the Oakland courthouse, so don't think you're putting me out._

_Are there other things you want to discuss? If you give me a list now, I can work on them and have any preliminary stuff worked out before we meet._

_Yours,_

_Dain  
_

Bilbo tapped his fingers on the table, then replied. 

_To: d.jarnfotor  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Dear Dain,_

_Thank you for your help. I should have had a will ages ago, but it never really felt urgent. As it is, I want to make sure that Frodo's well taken care of and protected in case of any unexpected disasters. I'll want him to go to my parents, of course, if … well. Just if._

_As it happens, I'm in the middle of a complicated operation which I can't really discuss any way other than in person and face to face, so I can't take advantage of your excellent time management skills._

_I think I can get some time free on next Tuesday? My schedule is pretty flexible, so let me know when is good for you and I'll shift my stuff around. There's a very nice café in Berkeley near my second job. I've only had their pastries, but I'm sure their regular food is good as well._

_Bilbo  
_

_To: Nori@ConsortBooks  
From: ProfBBaggins_

_Nori,_

_So, next Friday, right? I'm going to want your input on a few things. Have you ever seen any episodes of Bottom of the Barrel? You should try some._

_Bilbo  
_

The front door opened and Thorin came in, talking. "No," he said, "the timing for that's not right. I think it's got to be – Oh, hello Bilbo. You're home." Thorin pointed to his ear. "Bofur, Bilbo's home, and I just walked in, so I'll talk to you later?" He hung up and gave Bilbo a hug. 

"How was your day?" Thorin asked, pouring himself a glass of ice tea. 

"I am very ready for the school year to be over," Bilbo said. "I think we'll do okay this year – the averages have been good so far – but some of the kids haven't studied at all." He sighed. "I heard something today, though, and wanted to ask you about it."

Thorin stilled. "What?" He looked oddly apprehensive and Bilbo wondered what he could possibly be worried about.

"Arwen said that you guys – Erebor – cancelled, or delayed, three tour dates?"

Thorin looked relieved. "Oh, yes. After, well, we thought we could use a break. I mentioned it to you – I'm bringing the harp." He waggled his eyebrows. "I was hoping you'd come along."

Bilbo felt a rush of relief, and dropped his head into his hand. "You know, I'd completely forgotten about that. You _did_ ask me." 

"It was a month ago and it's been busy." Thorin looked hopeful. "Does this mean you'll come?"

Bilbo looked at his email, not really seeing any of it. "Have you picked dates yet?"

"We're going in August, and ending up at the Summer's End, same as last year." Thorin was practically bouncing in his seat. "I was sure you'd refuse."

"I'll have my parents take Frodo – he and Sam'll have a great time up there, I'm sure. How long will it be?"

"Probably three weeks or so, including the local show –" Thorin put his hand on Bilbo's arm. "You don't have to come for the whole time. Just one city would be great. I know you have work."

Bilbo nodded. "That sounds good. Let me know when and where and I'll get tickets."

"Oh, don't worry about that! I'll get my manager to set it all up." Thorin stood up. "I didn't know when you'd be home, so I planned on making baked fish."

Bilbo smiled up at him. "That sounds great. I'll make a salad to go with it."

They worked easily together, reaching around each other for things they needed. When the fish and sauce was in the oven, a nice layer of cheesy potatoes crowning the top, Thorin reached out and pulled Bilbo close. "Mmm," he said, "you smell delicious. Just like salad dressing."

Bilbo snorted. "Get off, you weirdo."

After dinner, Bilbo followed Frodo into his room. 

"Well, this looks serious," Frodo said, brows raised.

Bilbo sat on the edge of Frodo's bed. "I wanted to apologize. I know this is scary for you – it is for all of us. I'm sorry."

Frodo sank down into the chair. "It's okay. I get it. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"Eh," Bilbo shrugged. "I can see your point." They sat for a minute, then Bilbo said. "I'm having Dain draw up a will. I'll give you a copy, if you want, but I'm saying that if I … if something happens to me before you're 18, you'll go to my parents."

Frodo looked at his toes. "Okay."

Bilbo stood up and gave him a hug, bending slightly to kiss the top of his head. "This is just in case. There's nothing wrong with me, and there's no reason to worry that anything really bad will happen to me. I've just learned that it's a good idea to have these things written down."

Frodo nodded his head against Bilbo's stomach. "Right." After a moment, he leaned back. "Who's getting the dragon vase?"

Bilbo started laughing. "Scamp."

_To: ProfBBaggins_  
From: Ariuimadh  
[3 documents]  
[1 image] 

_My dear Professor,_

_I have enclosed a credit card number and information for using it. Please put all charges related to your upcoming visit on that card. I have also enclosed the information you'll need for setting your destination – you might want to arrive at least the day before our meeting and you are, of course, welcome to stay for a few days following the filming._

_I understand you have visited this area recently. I do hope this trip is more salubrious than the last._

_The image is the ID you'll need to get to my studio. Just keep it saved to your phone. They'll check it at the door._

_I am absolutely atwitter with excitement at the prospect of meeting you in person._

_Your friend, A  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For mini snickerdoodles, use your favorite recipe (I found this one online and it looks [good](http://thepioneerwoman.com/food-and-friends/snickerdoodles/)) but instead of making 1.5 tsp size balls, make dime or quarter sized ones. Bake for slightly less time. 
> 
> Try to not eat them all. I dare you.
> 
> As for fudge, I make [this one](http://www.kraftrecipes.com/recipes/bakers-one-bowl-chocolate-fudge-60531.aspx). I know, I know, it's super boring, but it makes *amazing* fudge and is incredibly fast.


	112. One Hundred Twelve - Things Begin to Come Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finds that the last two weeks of school are no longer the most stressful thing he's dealing with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope all of you have an excellent holiday season, filled with tasty food and happy people. *all the hugs*

Bilbo spent the weekend perfecting his finals – then went into the office on Sunday evening to print them out. As he sat in the empty room watching the printer collate and staple the tests, he felt jittery and impatient. 

He stood and walked around the room; it had three copiers and a large laminating machine which, as far as Bilbo knew, hadn't been used in the past three years. He poked at the buttons on the laminator, wondering if there was something at home he could laminate. After checking that the finals were still printing out, he looked out the window. The last of the sun streamed low over the coastal hills, making the campus buildings light up gold. 

The door opened and one of the new professors from the Biology department came in. She seemed startled to see him, then smiled and dropped her purse on the table. 

"Printing out finals?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yup. I'll be a bit longer, but that machine over there's good." He pointed at the third copier. 

She smiled. "Thanks." He heard her muttering to herself as she put her thumb drive into the slot and started following the instructions.

"Oh," he said, "and if you don't mind a tip? Make at least ten extra copies."

She glanced over her shoulder and snorted. "Yeah, I learned that at midterms. How can they manage to make so many mistakes they need a whole new copy?"

Bilbo leaned forward. "You know to make them turn in the –" 

"Oh goodness yes," she laughed. " _Not_ a worry. Before I give them a new copy, I go through the one they've 'ruined' to make sure it's still got all its pages."

Bilbo chuckled. "Well, you're clearly ready for them. Good."

"I hope so," she said, turning back to the copier. Bilbo watched her finish setting up her print run; as it started, she sat down and started going over what appeared to be notes for her class. 

As the room filled with the rattles and shuffles of machinery spitting paper past little gears, Bilbo realized that the jittery feeling he had wasn't about the upcoming finals. He watched the stacks of tests grow and the other teacher cram for tests she was giving and not taking and felt calm. 

_Oh._ The sun was all the way gone now, the sky filled with deep peach colored bands arching up to a darkening zenith. _I guess I have something bigger to worry about._

Monday's lectures were straightforward and Bilbo left campus after checking in with Ori. Ori was nearly vibrating with nerves, but he handed over a thick professionally bound folder with his thesis. Bilbo set the folder down, reached out, and pulled Ori into a hug.

"It'll be okay," he said. "I've seen all your work. You're fine."

Ori twisted his hands together, then pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm going to go home now and take the next two days off."

Bilbo laughed. "Just be here for your last office hours and graduation, and it's all good."

At home, Bilbo sat down with a pot of tea, a plate of 'ugly' cookies, and started reading the thesis. When Thorin came home, Bilbo looked up at him, rubbing his eyes. The thesis bristled with post it notes in a rainbow of colors.

Thorin bent down and hugged him. "You look exhausted. I'll get Chinese food for dinner?"

Tuesday morning, Bilbo packed his bag carefully, then texted Dain the coffee shop's address. When he got there, it was nicely busy; there were a few empty tables, but the room was filled with a low buzz of conversation, piped in music, and hissing and banging from the baristas and the espresso machines. 

Bilbo ordered a latte with several shots of espresso and a large bowl of oatmeal with cream, fresh fruit, and local honey. He picked a table near the back, but not near the path to the back of the café and the restrooms. Just as one of the baristas called his name to say his order was ready, the noise in the café hesitated. 

Bilbo looked around and saw Dain striding through the tables. His hair flowed down his back in riotous red waves, his moustache points jutted forward sharply, and, under his well-fitted jeans, the heels of his pointy-toed cowboy boots rung on the floor. He saw Bilbo and lit up, raising a hand in greeting. 

"Your friend's not very good at secret meetings, is he?"

Bilbo swung around to see the girl who'd helped him when he first came to the café with Elrohir and the other FBI agents. She was smiling at Dain, who'd detoured to meet Bilbo at the hand-off counter.

Bilbo chuckled. "No, not so much. But," he shrugged. "It's Berkeley. He sort of fits right in."

At that, she laughed and stepped to stand in front of Dain. "Can I help you?" she asked him.

Bilbo picked up the tray with his order, snagged Dain's briefcase with his other hand, and took everything to his table. 

After they'd eaten most of their food, and caught up on general life events, Bilbo cleared the table of the un-wanted dishes and leaned forward. Dain pulled out a notepad and his pen and nodded firmly.

"All right, lad, tell me what's up. This can't just be about wanting a will."

Bilbo shook his head. "No, although I do need one. The thing is, I'm going to be on Azog's show and I'm going to try to get him to confess to being directly involved in that little boy's murder."

Dain stiffened, his face held so still that Bilbo thought he might have frozen. Then Dain leaned forward and whispered, "Are you out of your everloving fucking _mind? ___"

Bilbo sighed. "Oh, not you, too. No, I'm not out of my mind. Yes, I'm entirely capable of doing this –"

"Not that, I don't think you can't pull it off, but citizen's arrest doesn't work."

Bilbo laughed, then pressed his lips together, catching the eye of the girl behind the counter. "No, I'm not going to – I'm in touch with a law enforcement agency from Europe called Numenor."

Dain sat up slowly, eyes narrowed. "Foreign law enforcement agents don't typically arrest United States citizens."

"No, but the FBI does." 

Dain nodded, still staring hard at Bilbo. "I think you should start at the beginning and tell me everything." He uncapped his pen and looked firmly at Bilbo. 

Bilbo drank the last of his latte, leaned forward, and began talking. By the end of his explanation, Dain had three pages of notes and had tried to drink from his empty cup at least five times. 

"So, I'm going to be there for the filming – or whatever he calls it – on June 24th. Hopefully, I'll have figured out how to make him talk by then." Bilbo stretched his back and looked into his empty cup. "I'm getting another – what did you have?"

"Coffee with two shots of espresso and hot milk," Dain muttered, reading over his notes. "Thanks."

Back at the table, Dain pulled papers from his briefcase. "I brought you the same basic will form that I'd drawn up for Drogo and Prim." For a moment, his face held sorrow, then he continued. "You'll have to give me a list of what you'll want disbursed and to whom, but that's easy enough to do. I'll have it ready by the end of the week, if you get me an inclusive list quickly." He flashed a sharp glance up at Bilbo. "I suggest you get this formalized before you leave for New York."

Bilbo nodded and slipped the sheaf of papers into his own bag. "No disagreement here." He drank some of his coffee. "Do you have any other thoughts?"

"I think you're skating on the thin edge of the law, here, but I guess it's worth a try." Dain sipped his own drink. "I assume everyone else involved knows what they're supposed to be doing?"

"If you mean the guys from Numenor, I think so. They seem very professional. The FBI agents are more emotional, but I'm sure they know their job." Bilbo paused, eyes on the door. "If you mean _Thorin_ , I'm not sure. He was upset when I talked to him about it – "

"I'm impressed he didn't combust on the spot," Dain muttered, and Bilbo snorted. 

"He very nearly did."

Dain turned his cup around on the table. "How'd Frodo take it?"

"Not well," Bilbo said. "He said I might as well have left him with Rory and Gilda."

Dain chuckled. "He's his mother all over, isn't he?"

Bilbo clenched his hands around his coffee cup. "I never understood why they had to go on that cruise _then_ and not wait until he was older."

They were silent, letting the anonymous chatter in the café fill the air. 

"Ours is not to wonder why…" Dain said.

"Well, I'm certainly not planning on dying," Bilbo snapped. "Have you seen Azog's show? It'll be pretty damned hard for him to do anything awful to me on the show itself."

Dain flipped through his notes again. "Tell me about how you're getting there."

After another half hour spent going over his travel plans, Bilbo followed Dain out into the sunny day. "I'll email you the stuff for the will," Bilbo said. 

Dain reached out and gave him a big hug. "You do that. And keep your eyes open."

Inside Lorien, Bilbo sent an email to Galadriel and Tatyar about his travel plans. He'd found a flight that looked like it would get him there in a reasonable time, and he'd been thinking of renting a car.

Within the hour, Galadriel herself showed up at his office door, followed by a bright haired young woman carrying a tray with snacks and a tea pot. 

"I looked at that flight," Galadriel said, when the food was set up, "and you can do much better. He's paying for it, so take advantage of that. Take a morning flight. You'll lose some of the day, yes, but you won't arrive over-tired and stressed out. Get all the amenities you can from First Class."

She poured two cups of tea and gestured at the plate of food. "Don't let him pick anything, not the hotel, not the rental car, not the airline."

Bilbo snorted into his tea cup. "My lawyer made the same suggestion."

She smiled at him. "Your lawyer sounds quite intelligent. Also, I suggest you choose a small hotel, not one of the big chains." She finished her own cup and stood. "And when you've finished what you're currently working on today, you are officially on vacation. Fully paid, of course. Come back to the work when you've finished dealing with finals and this other business. The enzymes aren't going anywhere."

She swept from the room, carrying her tea cup with her.

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo opened Kayak and started looking for flights.

Wednesday was a scrum at school; it seemed as if every single student in all of his classes wanted to ask him 'just one question'. Finally, he shook off the swarm by going into one of the reagent preparation rooms and locking the door behind him. When he heard that the kids had moved on, he slipped out the door and back down the corridor to his office.

Beorn laughed at him as he pressed his back to the door. "You look hunted," he said, stroking Elanor, who was curled up and purring on his knee.

"I might have to abseil out the window to get to my car," Bilbo said, shaking his head. "And no, I'm still not taking the cat."

Elanor stretched all her legs and yawned at him, flicking her pink tongue disdainfully. 

Thursday, Bilbo found Ecthelion and Gil-Galad sitting outside his flet, playing a portable board game as they waited. Bilbo sighed and propped his hip against his closed door. "What can I do for you two?"

Ecthelion stood. "We wanted to go over the plan again."

Bilbo pressed his fingers into his eyes. "We've gone over it at least eight times."

"Three," Gil-Galad said softly, smiling.

"Three," Bilbo corrected himself. "I know what to do."

Ecthelion crossed his arms over his chest and started to speak, but Gil-Galad poked him in the hip. 

"We should probably run through it once more," Gil-Galad said from his seat, "and this is really the last time we can do it, as we'll be setting things up on-site over the next week."

Bilbo sighed and opened his door. "By all means, then," he said, "let's go over it again."

Friday, Bilbo drove across the Bay Bridge to meet Nori. He glanced over at the city; the grey buildings looked like a wall in the flat summer light. Bilbo turned back to the traffic, humming along with Dvorak on the radio.

Nori was waiting for him in the lobby of the building. "So," he said as they rode up in the elevator. "Did you bring my brownies?"

Bilbo laughed. "Is that all you want from me?"

Nori beamed at him. "I'll take what I can get."

"Sara has her hands full with you, doesn't she?" Bilbo hitched his bag up higher on his shoulder. The bottom of the bag was heavy with the container of brownies he'd stuffed in it that morning.

Nori waggled his eyebrows. "Well, she's got her hands full of something."

Bilbo groaned. "I can't believe I walked into that."

"You really did," Nori said. "You must not be feeling well."

In Nori's office, Bilbo handed him the brownies and chuckled as Nori ate one quickly before making them cups of coffee. 

"So," Nori said, "Smaug's been odd recently. Normally, he'd be all over me to get him more publicity, but he's been nearly silent. Barely answering emails, even."

Bilbo swirled the coffee in his cup. "How much do you know about his actual history? Do we know at all where he came from?" 

Nori shrugged. "I know he lies about it, but I haven't bothered to do any research into the truth. I'm just here to sell his books, not dig up his long lost secrets."

"I wonder," Bilbo said, "if he's involved in the antiquities trade."

"I think so. His house is chock a block with what he calls, 'the lost treasures of his past'."

Bilbo snorted. "Uh huh. What a prick." He tapped the cup with his thumb. "I think I'll ask Tatyar to look into it. He might be important."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I looked up the format of graduate student theses. Check out the author's name on this [manual](http://www.chem.purdue.edu/thesisformat/Chemistry%20Formatting%20Manual.pdf). Talk about having one's fandom follow one around. 
> 
> And I found the recipe online for the cake I make for my daughter's birthday every year. Here we are, [Buche de Noel](https://themoveablefeasts.wordpress.com/2012/12/26/buche-de-noel-yule-log/). Please note how thick their filling is. Mine is never that thick and I have no idea why. It's really annoying. The _flavor_ , however, is excellent.


	113. One Hundred Thirteen - Finals Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finals week itself is anti-climactic.

When Bilbo got home, he sent Tatyar and Elladan a joint email, reminding them both that they should look into Smaug and whether or not he had any connections to Azog. He didn't think it would pan out, but given Smaug's interest in increasing his wealth, regardless of the method, Bilbo didn't want to risk ignoring any possible lead.

After dinner, he called Thorin, who'd been rehearsing in the studio at his own house the whole day. 

"The recording went well," Thorin said, then yawned so deeply his voice squeaked.

Bilbo lay back on his couch and smiled at his toes. "That's good. You sound tired."

"We did a lot of work." There was a rustling sound from Thorin's end of the phone and Bilbo tried to picture what he was doing.

"I didn't realize it was this exhausting," Bilbo said.

Thorin groaned. "It's not, always. I'm a bit rusty – we all are – and we're working on new stuff as well as trying to rehearse the older things." He fell silent, breathing quietly into the phone. "When are you making dinner?"

"You should stay there. I'll see you tomorrow," Bilbo said. "I know, I'd rather have you here as well, but you sound too tired to drive."

"Oh, I've driven … ah." Thorin stopped talking. "I, yeah. I'll go to bed."

"Get something to eat first? And maybe some water?" 

"Yes, dear," Thorin said. Bilbo could hear the smile in his voice. "I'll be at your house for lunch tomorrow."

Bilbo regretted it later, when he crawled into bed by himself. After some tossing and turning, however, he fell deeply asleep. 

Saturday was quiet. Thorin came over earlier than lunch time, but he and Bilbo sat in the living room reading together over a pot of tea and some crackers and cheese. Frodo spent the day studying with Sam, then they all went to the final performance of the school choir; Rosie stood in the center of the choir, her eyes fixed on Frodo and Sam. Bilbo didn't know who looked prouder: Rosie's parents, or her boyfriends. 

Thorin took them all out to ice cream after the performance. The teenagers sat at their own table, laughing and eating their body weight in ice cream – Rosie even ordered curly fries to go with her sundae. 

Tolman turned to Bilbo. "I've no idea where they put it all." He had a triple scoop sundae in front of himself, bathing in caramel sauce and crowned with whipped cream.

Bilbo grinned and dug into his own smaller sundae. "Ah, to have the metabolism of the young again." He looked around at the large room filled with happy people and felt relief that other people were having normal lives. 

At his side, Thorin quietly scooped rocky road ice cream into his mouth.

"I heard you're going back on tour," Lily said, patting her lips. "How long will you be away?" 

Thorin sat up slightly. "It'll be three weeks, no longer." He stirred his ice cream. "Summer's End will be the finale, as usual. Ah, would you like tickets?"

Tolman laughed. "Oh goodness, no. Just the thought of the heaving crowds is bothersome. No, Rosie was just saying something about it."

"Well," Thorin said, "I can certainly get her in…" He trailed off and glanced at Bilbo, then smiled. "Just like old times, then."

Bilbo licked his spoon, rolling his eyes. "I'll make sure make time to talk to Thranduil."

Thorin snorted. 

Back at home, Sam went back home and Frodo disappeared into his room to listen to something with loud thumping. Bilbo sat next to Thorin on the couch in the living room.

"So," Bilbo said. "What's bothering you?"

Thorin examined his knees. "Nothing. Why?"

Bilbo rubbed his eyes. "Thorin, don't do this. You've been quiet and stiff for a couple of days now. I know it's not the recording, because if it was work, you'd be telling me all about it. So it has to be something with me." He stopped, filled with a rush of anxiety so sudden and strong that he felt nauseous.

"It's nothing and I can't stop you." Thorin glared at Deathless, who returned the look with interest.

"If it's nothing, then surely there's nothing to stop me from doing," Bilbo said, the nausea passing.

"You shouldn't go." Thorin's voice was so soft Bilbo nearly missed it in the distant thunder of Frodo's music.

"Shouldn't … where?" 

Thorin crossed his arms. "Azog. You shouldn't go to fucking New York and you shouldn't talk to Azog and you shouldn't let those _people_ convince you that it's a good idea." He breathed heavily through his nose. "Because it's _not_."

Bilbo ran a hand down Thorin's back, then back up, letting his hand rest on Thorin's shoulder. "It is a good idea. It might be the best idea I've heard in the past year."

"Why the hell – " Thorin gasped in a breath and pulled away from Bilbo's hand. "He's a shit. He's dangerous. He'll say one thing and mean something else and you won't be able to tell anyone and he'll…"

"Oh, Thorin," Bilbo whispered. He reached out, but Thorin flinched further back. 

"At least let me come," Thorin said to his feet.

"No." Bilbo slipped off the couch and knelt in front of Thorin; he grasped Thorin's chin, forcing him to look at Bilbo. Or, at least in Bilbo's general direction – Thorin wouldn't meet his eyes. "No, you are not coming. You are not going anywhere near that asshole. Never again." 

Thorin's eyes caught his. "But…"

"You can't go. There is nothing anyone could say that would convince me to let you go. You will _never_ have to be in the same room as that shitbag ever again, if I have anything to do with it." 

Thorin stared at him, his face slack. Then something twisted behind his eyes and he said, his voice tearing, "You have no idea what he can do! It's not safe."

Bilbo felt a laugh rising and fell backwards onto his butt. "Thorin. He can't do anything to me."

"He fucking can. You think it'll be okay, but it _won't_. He's capable of doing truly horrible things. "

Bilbo shrugged. "Yes, yes he is. He's capable of murder, and drug smuggling and all sorts of other things. But in public? On his show? I don't think so."

Thorin glared at him. "How can you take this so lightly? He's _dangerous._ "

Bilbo leaned back on his arms. "So, my uncle Isembard can make my mother _incandescent_ with rage just by adjusting his shoulders. It means nothing to my father. That's how families work. But Thorin," Bilbo sat up and looked hard at Thorin. "Azog's not _my_ childhood friend, not my old boyfriend, not my old lover. He's _nothing_ to me. Nothing except an obstacle, one I am sick and fucking tired of having to deal with. If I have to get rid of him in order for us to have a happy life, then so be it."

Thorin's chest was heaving. "I …"

"Hey, getting rid of him will make the world a better place, right?" Bilbo said. "Every hero's dream. And, what's better, is that he's paying for the privilege."

Finals week itself felt almost anti-climactic. The tests went easily; Bilbo watched as each class worked through the problems with a minimum of questions and difficulties. Fatima looked exhausted, but she finished first in her class and walked out of the classroom with her head held high. Bilbo caught a glimpse of Elladan in the hallway before the door swung closed behind her and smiled to himself. 

On Wednesday, Bilbo emailed Bard Bowman to confirm that taking Frodo one day early wouldn't be a problem. He got a quick return email telling him that everything was fine and wishing him – and Frodo – a good summer break.

Thursday afternoon, he packed his bags. It took longer than he'd expected. After trying to pack everything he was going to need for the next few weeks into one large bag, he sat down on the bed and thought. _I'm going to have to come back down on Saturday anyway, for the graduation ceremony, so there's no reason to bring everything. I'll pack enough for the weekend and leave the rest of my things here._

"Hey, Bilbo, how long am I staying up at Bella and Bungo's?" Frodo called down the hall. 

Bilbo leaned into Frodo's room. "Three weeks should do it. And there's a washing machine, so …" 

"Right," Frodo interrupted. "So do you think I'll need _all_ the Riyria books, or just the first two?"

"Bring them all. If you don't have time, that's fine, but better to have them, just in case." Bilbo watched as Frodo dumped three large paperbacks into his backpack. "Don't forget clothes, kiddo." Frodo just rolled his eyes and Bilbo laughed, going back to his own packing.

In the end, Bilbo had a small roll-on case with a week's worth of casual clothing and a satchel with just enough to get through the weekend. He left the roll-on case in the middle of his bedroom and dropped the satchel by the front door. 

Thorin came in a few minutes after Bilbo finished packing. "I'm not late?" He bounced on his toes. 

They drove up to Hobbiton in two cars. Frodo said he wanted to talk to Thorin about music, so he went in Thorin's truck, leaving Bilbo on his own. He spent the time listening to the radio and thinking through the various ways things could go spectacularly wrong in New York. 

Bungo met them outside the green door of Bag End. He hugged everyone, sending Thorin and Frodo in carrying all the luggage. Bilbo was surprised to see that Thorin had brought his harp as well as his guitar. Frodo carried his own guitar slung across his back and his backpack on his chest as he followed the smell of roast pork into the house.

"Bilbo," Bungo said softly, catching his arm before he followed them into the house. "How's Frodo taking this, the thing with Azog?"

Bilbo shrugged, looking carefully at his father. "He was angry at first, but he's better now. Why?"

"Oh, I'm just curious."

"Dad, you haven't been 'just curious' about anything as long as I've been alive."

Bungo smiled at the flowers cascading from the hanging basket near the door. "Can't get anything past you or your mother."

"What's up?"

"I was just thinking that this is quite the adventure." They paused, watching a small flock of birds silhouetted against the early evening sky. "I'm not surprised that Frodo's parents went off on that cruise – although I do think it could have been better timed – and I wouldn't be surprised to hear of your mother flying off to save the world and her loved ones from some villain or another. I am a little surprised to find you doing so." 

Bilbo stared at him, not at all sure what to say. He'd been sure his father understood why he needed to do this.

"Not that I don't see the point," Bungo continued, "just that it's not what I expected to be happening this summer, when I was thinking about the future, last summer."

Bilbo sank down on the bench along the sun-ward wall near the front door. "Me, neither, dad. But now that I'm here, I can't think of where else I could be."

Bungo sat down next to him. "All the choices were logical, when you made them and now, in retrospect. I'm just struck by the incongruity." He patted Bilbo's shoulder. "I don't think Azog will know what hit him. He's not ready for the Bagginses, that's for sure. We'll get him."

Dinner was roast pork, with steamed broccoli drizzled with sesame oil and fresh gomashio, a large green salad with the very first tomatoes, two different cole slaws – vinegar based and mayonnaise, sautéed zucchini, and berry pie for dessert. Bella looked quite pleased when there was only cole slaw and one piece of pie left over at the end of the meal. 

After dinner, and over mugs of tea, Thorin and Frodo played a few songs together, then everyone went to bed. 

Friday morning, Bilbo woke up and crawled out of bed by seven. He trundled downstairs, and sat in the kitchen with a large pot of coffee and the last slice of pie, working on grading the final exams. He'd run the one class-worth of scantron forms through the reader and was painstakingly going through the hand-written portions of the tests, working through each student's shown work. 

Two hours later, he set aside the unfinished tests from the Inorganic Chemistry class and groaned at the sight of the Organic Chemistry tests, still un-started. Giving up for the moment, he stood and went to re-fill the coffee pot to make more. A knock on the window made him look up. 

Lobelia peered in at him, her eyes narrow. When she saw he'd seen her, she pointed at the front door and left the window. He met her at the door.

"Hello, Lobelia," he said, standing in the doorway. 

"Nice morning for grading," she said. "Want help?"

"Ah, thanks, but – " he started.

"Before you refuse," she said, her tone sharp, "there's something else I'd like to talk to you about, so you might as well take advantage." She tilted her head at the stack of tests. "Those are the Organics, right?"

He nodded, then sighed and let her in. By the time they got to the kitchen, Bella was already there, finishing up the second pot of coffee and sliding a breakfast strata into the oven. Her face tightened when she saw Lobelia following Bilbo, but all she said was, "Nice to see you, Lobelia."

"Likewise, I'm sure," Lobelia said, then sat down in Bilbo's chair, pulling the stack closer. "No coffee for me, but if you have anything like herbal tea, I'll take a pot of that."

Bella rolled her eyes, but added water to the electric kettle and turned it on. "Chamomile?"

"That will do," Lobelia replied, her eyes already on the top test.

Bilbo sat down and pulled the stack back. "I didn't say you could – "

"Oh give over," Lobelia snapped. "The sooner you let me help you with that stack of idiotic answers, the sooner we can get working on the important issues."

Bilbo stared at her. "The … important issues?"

"I've been binge watching that stupid show and I think I have some ideas," she said decisively. "He's clearly very confident, but he's not actually very smart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Gomashio](http://justbento.com/handbook/johbisai/homemade-furikake-no-6-gomashio-sesame-salt) is, at its most basic, toasted sesame seeds and salt. The thing is, it's delicious and subtle and I love it on so many things. It's great on eggs, and on rice and on meat and on veggies and on ...
> 
> As for the cole slaw, I don't actually HAVE the recipe I want for this. There's a restaurant near a yarn store I used to teach in that makes great fried chicken and vinegar cole slaw sandwiches. I can't find a recipe for the cole slaw. I can find vinegar based ones, but they're not right. They all have mustard or other 'fancy' ingredients. However, do tell me if you have a favorite recipe for it.


	114. One Hundred Fourteen – And It's On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time between this year's graduation ceremony and Azog's show pass in a whirl.

Bilbo gaped at her and she laughed. 

"Oh, you're so out of touch," she said. "He's been advertising it all over his site – it's even been mentioned on TMZ. He's underestimated you – us – if he thinks he can just bulldoze over us. I mean," she waved a hand dismissively, "even _you_ could deal with him easily. But if you take my advice, he'll never get over it."

Bilbo blinked, struck by an inappropriate flash of humor. "Well," he finally said, "that's certainly the plan." He flicked a glance at his mother, who was glaring at Lobelia. "What's your advice?"

"Oh, I can help you with these as well," she said, pulling the stack of tests closer. "I've set aside the whole day to helping you."

" – so I was thinking of going over to – " Frodo broke off and glowered as he swung around the kitchen door and saw Lobelia. "What're you doing here?"

Thorin stepped into the room behind him and Bilbo saw Lobelia's attention sharpen. "So, you're the celebrity," she purred, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in the chair, one arm resting on the table. 

To Bilbo's surprise, Thorin brightened. "You must be Lobelia," he said, stepping slightly forward. Frodo slid behind him and stood beside Bella, his glare a near perfect echo of hers.

Lobelia tipped her chin up. "I see my cousin's been talking out of turn."

Bilbo opened his mouth to answer, but Thorin got there first. "Oh, nothing bad. I'm sure you're just the person to help us." He slid into the seat across from Lobelia. 

She narrowed her eyes. "Yes. I am." She didn't seem to get what she expected from Thorin's smoothly interested face, so she turned back to Bilbo. "Do you have a rubric for these, or not?"

Silently, Bilbo slid it towards her. She glowered at him, then pulled it closer. "Are you going to make the tea, or am I just to sit here without refreshment?"

Bella stiffened, then busied herself making morning drinks. Bilbo exchanged looks with her and stood. "I'll just help mom get things ready. Would you like scones?"

Lobelia shook her head, still looking over the grading sheet. "Not unless your mother has gluten free flour and only uses organic honey."

Bella, about to set Lobelia's tea on the table, stood up. "Lobelia," she said, her voice curious, "are you –"

"I don't know," Lobelia snapped. 

"Ah." Bella set the tea paraphernalia down and crossed her arms. "I'll make you the scones I liked." At Lobelia's sharp glance, Bella continued. "I've got a bag of King Arthur's gluten free flour mix. That'll do?"

Lobelia nodded. 

Frodo took a cup of coffee and one of the muffins Bella had leftover from the previous week and disappeared down the hall. Bilbo and his mother worked quietly together on the scones, then as they went into the oven, the breakfast casserole slid out, toasty and appealing. Lobelia eyed it and said, "Is there someplace I can work without being distracted?"

Bella nodded. "There's the office, down the hall. You can close the door against the smells, as well." Bilbo glanced back and forth between them, then felt his eyes widen. _Oh. Well, won't that be interesting._

Once Lobelia was set up, everyone else settled into the business of eating breakfast. Thorin finished his second helping and leaned back. "Do you think she can help or is she just here to cause trouble?"

Bungo and Bilbo looked at each other. Bilbo shrugged. "Well, they say it takes a thief to catch a thief, so …" 

Bella snorted. "Nice, kid." 

After breakfast, Bilbo holed up in the office with Lobelia, bringing a tray full of scones and another pot of chamomile tea. At first, she wasn't quite willing to give him the tests back, but after an uncomfortable moment when she looked nearly ready to cry, she lifted her hands from the stack and shoved them towards him. 

Nearly two hours later, she leaned back from the side of the desk and rubbed her face. "You know what?" 

Bilbo held up a finger, wrote 'I don't know how you got this' under a heavily circled number, then looked up, his eyes stinging. "What?"

She smiled, looking tired and unexpectedly happy. "I've changed my mind. I'm glad I'm not teaching any more." She neatly stacked the tests she'd finished and laid them across the ones she hadn't worked on. "I'd forgotten what a nightmare this is."

Bilbo stretched. "It's not the worst part."

She smiled at him. "Nope. I never have to deal with the Search Committee or the Holiday Party Committee ever again."

"Don't brag," he said. "It's unbecoming."

She snorted. "Right, fuck that. Are you ready to talk about Azog?"

Bilbo pressed his fingers against his eyes. "I'm out of coffee. How about a refill for both of us, then yeah, let's get working."

"I'll need something to eat, as well." 

***

Over dinner, Thorin kept them entertained with stories about being on tour. Frodo had spent the day out catching up with friends of his and a lot to say about his summer plans. After dinner, though, he drifted off to his bedroom to talk to Sam, Merrie, and Pippin on Skype, leaving the adults sitting around the table.

"So," Bungo said, finishing filling the dishwasher. "Did she have good advice?"

"How'd she come to be in my kitchen, anyway?" Bella sounded tart, but looked amused.

Bilbo groaned. "She pushed past me." Everyone laughed. "But yes," he continued. "I took careful notes, and I think she's got some good points. Thorin, when did you actually meet him?"

Thorin leaned back in his chair. "I – when I was a kid."

"Yes, but how old were you? Was he … " Bilbo trailed off, then tapped the table. "Did you notice when he started being obsessed with you?" 

"No." Thorin looked deeply uncomfortable. "Dwalin might have."

Bilbo pulled a notebook from his shirt pocket and made a note. "Good point. Thanks." He flipped a few pages back in the notebook and leaned forward. "Okay, she gave me some questions for you. I'm sorry – they're sort of invasive."

Bella shot to her feet. "I have some work to do in the studio –"

Thorin held up a hand. "Don't go. You might think of things as well."

She shifted on her feet. "If you're sure?" He nodded, and she sighed. "Then let's move this to the living room. We can have dessert when this is done."

The next morning, Bilbo got up early, kissing a half-awake Thorin on the cheek. "I'm going down for the graduation. I'll see you this afternoon. Want anything from the Big City?"

Thorin rolled his face out of the pillow. "Uh, I don't think so," he mumbled.

On the drive down to the college, Bilbo called Dwalin, who promised to send him an email with answers to as many of Lobelia's questions as he could think of. Once Bilbo was at the college, he didn't have time to focus on anything except the chaos of the event itself.

Ori came through the graduation line early, nearly bouncing his way across the stage. He gave Bilbo a huge – unscripted – hug and then, rolled up stand-in diploma in hand, raced down the stairs and back to his seat, where he unrolled it and compared the pre-printed note on it from the College President, Dr Saruman Obmanshchyk, to the exact same note on everyone else's paper. 

After the ceremony was finally over, he wandered into the crowd, but was quickly surrounded by Ori and his family.

"Bilbo," Dori said, beaming at him and pumping his hand up and down. "I'm so grateful to you for what you've done for Ori."

Bilbo smiled at him. "Dori, honestly, Ori did all the work himself. He's a brilliant chemist and I'm sure he'll go far." He turned to Ori, who'd been draped with several more floral leis since the end of the ceremony. "By the way, I've put your thesis up for publication – you get first credit. It's a very good piece."

Ori stared at him, mouth open, then lunged forward and hugged Bilbo so hard he thought his ribs were actually creaking. Just behind him, Nori and Sara stood, arms around each other, beaming at Bilbo. 

"Hey, found you!" Bofur shouted, pushing through a narrow gap in the crowd. Ori fell off Bilbo and jumped at Bofur, who caught him and twirled him around, both laughing. 

Dori stepped closer to Bilbo again. "You've been very good to many parts of this family," he said. "I heard what's going on – what you're doing in New York next week. No matter what happens, never forget you can ask us for anything."

Bilbo turned to him. "I – thank you."

Dori's face was set in uncompromising lines. "It's time for bullies to be stopped." His partner Danni stood behind him and wrapped an arm around Dori's waist. Dori hugged back, his shoulders relaxing a bit.

"What took you so long?" Ori asked Bofur as they came back to the group. 

"I was getting the last part of our travel kit," he said, patting his satchel. "I put the rest of her supplies in the van. Didn't want to leave her in the van. She might overheat."

Bilbo caught Nori's equally confused look. "Who?" Nori asked.

Bofur carefully pulled the flap of his satchel aside and a tiny pale furry head stuck out. 

"Her name is Elanor," Ori said, stroking her nose with a finger. Bilbo started laughing.

"Good to know Beorn found a willing victim," he said.

***

The following week sped past at lightning speed. Bilbo spent the first half immured in his parents' office room with the rest of the ungraded tests. Thursday, he uploaded all the final grades; he heard Thorin and Bungo laughing down the hall as he fought with the school's poorly designed online records system. _As soon as this is done, you can go have a nice few days with your family._ He glared at his computer screen. "Would you hurry the fuck up?"

Friday was spent in the kitchen; he and Bella baked five different kinds of bread over the next two days. At first, Thorin said something about the bread going to waste, but then Pippin, Merry, Sam, and Rosie came up for the weekend and the bread – as well as practically everything else edible – vanished. 

Sunday afternoon, Bilbo drove back down to the Bay Area, his bag filled with the plans and notes he and his family had worked on. He and Thorin had said goodbye in Hobbiton; Thorin planned on staying with Bilbo's parents rather than having a hurried and public goodbye in the airport.

Monday morning, bright and early, Bilbo drove to San Francisco Airport and boarded the flight, trying to look casual about traveling First Class. The flight was boring; First Class got food and Bilbo had made sure to get a window seat, but he couldn't stop worrying over the next day. Eventually, he found a combination of music on his iPod and book on his kindle reader which distracted him. 

When he landed in Syracuse, he made it to the rental car area quickly, as he'd only brought carry on luggage. There'd been a car waiting with his name on it, but he asked the bored looking woman behind the counter if he couldn't have something else. Blue cars, he said, made him get car sick. She changed the car almost without looking at him.

They'd struggled with how to hide where he was staying from Azog while still using his credit card to pay for it. Finally, Bilbo had used his own credit card to hold the reservation at a bed and breakfast which didn't appear to have the usual over-decorated mania. He called and explained that he was going to be in town for an event which was being paid for by someone else, but that he wanted to surprise them, so couldn't use their credit card until he arrived. After some discussion, they grudgingly agreed that he could use a card he wasn't actually in possession of, as long as he was willing to show them proof, when he arrived, that he did have permission to use it.

In the end, when they looked at Azog's name on the email, they nodded and carefully put in the credit card number from Bilbo's phone. 

"Will you need dinner?" the wife asked, leaning on the counter as her husband finished the paperwork. "If you're in town for him –" She nodded her head at Bilbo's phone. "He'll have people out at the local restaurants looking for you. Let us make you something here."

Bilbo blinked at her, exhausted from the day of travel. "I – thank you? Surely I can just find someplace to –" 

Her husband looked up. "You're the one who's seeing the Durin boy, right? The one who Azog hates?"

Bilbo nodded silently.

"I assume you're not here to roll over for him, then?" His eyes were piercing, dark brown pools in his dusky face. "I looked you up, when he started bragging on his site about you." 

Bilbo looked back and forth between them, feeling suddenly very very unsure. 

The woman's face opened suddenly and she said, "Oh, I'm Loni Blieklok and this is my husband Nali. We're happy to have you here with us. Not everyone in this town likes him. Azog, I mean. Or any of his gang."

Bilbo rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm very tired."

She smiled and patted his shoulder. "That's okay, dear. I'll go make you something for dinner, don't worry about it. Nali'll bring your things up to the room, then meet us in the kitchen. Come along." She trotted off with such command that he was two steps away from the counter before he caught himself. He turned and saw Nali's smile. 

"Go on," Nali said. "I'll be there in a few minutes." He tipped his head to the side and regarded Bilbo, who was still hesitating. "We lost our son to Palantir." Bilbo's silence made him raise his eyebrows. "You don't know – huh. Well, let's just say that what Azog's selling killed our boy and leave it at that. You don't need to worry about us telling him where you are."

Bilbo sighed and followed the sounds of pans and water to the kitchen.

The next morning, he was served a full and filling breakfast in his room before following his phone's GPS to Azog's filming studio, an oddly shaped building in a worryingly empty business park in the middle of what, to Bilbo's California trained eyes, looked like a forest. 

He parked away from the door to the building, took several deep breaths, then got out of the car. At the door, he showed the security guard the image Azog had sent him. A pretty young woman – her name badge read "Sarae" – to bring him to his waiting room. She showed him the connected restroom and the various amenities in the room, and then he was asked to stay until she came back to fetch him. 

With a sigh, he pulled out his phone, texting Thorin and his parents to tell them he was at the studio. Then he settled down and forced himself back into the book he'd been reading on the plane.

Some time later, Sarae came to get him again. The greenroom must have been soundproofed, he realized, as the halls were filled with the distant noise of the audience. She pointed him towards a chair in another room, where a bright eyed young man powdered his face; then Sarae brought him to another door, through which he could hear Azog's muffled voice shouting at the crowd. She dusted off his shoulders, pushed his hair behind his ears, then nodded at him. "You're on," she said, and opened the door.

He walked through onto the stage, already starting to smile for his meeting with Azog, when he saw who was already sitting on the couch, waiting for him.

"Ah," Azog said, "I'm sure you recognize one of our other guests for this show."

Smeagol smiled up at Bilbo, his smile twisted with malicious glee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, lots of notes! 
> 
> First, the [breakfast strata](https://smittenkitchen.com/2009/12/spinach-and-cheese-strata/). Totally tasty, very easy. 
> 
> Second, Bofur travels in something like [this](http://sfbay.craigslist.org/sby/ctd/5948383415.html) or [this](http://sfbay.craigslist.org/eby/ctd/5945988338.html), but with the second row of seats taken out for a little metalworking studio. He's so excited about having Ori along on this summer's festival tour, he can't even. Yes, Elanor's going to rule that roost, the bossy little cutie.
> 
> Third, [First Class](http://www.airreview.com/VirginAmerica/Fleet.htm) seats aren't always as amazing as one could hope, but they're better than cattle class. 
> 
> Fourth, [this](http://www.opheliasgardeninn.com/rate.php#content) is the bed and breakfast Bilbo's staying in. He's in the Hideaway room.
> 
> Fifth, there is actually a film studio in Syracuse. Or, there [WAS](http://www.syracuse.com/news/index.ssf/2016/05/as_feds_probe_cuomos_projects_empty_cny_film_hub_awaits_promised_jobs.html), but it failed. I find it amusing that reality is bending to match my story. AND, what I find even more interesting is that I can't find where that building is on google maps. I think it's already been torn down.


	115. One Hundred Fifteen – Witty Repartee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fencing with words is less fun than it could be, but at least it doesn't draw real blood, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I just want to say HERE that Smeagol is a fucking shitbag who is WRONG, okay? NOT my views, all his.

"Hello, Precious." 

Bilbo flinched; he'd forgotten just how grating and whiny Sméagol 's voice was. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Azog's smile broaden and thought, _One to you, asshole. But not for the reason you think._

Trying not to pause, Bilbo walked forward onto the stage, squinting slightly in the bright lights. He saw that Azog had changed the furniture slightly; there was a slightly-too-small-for-comfort loveseat, which Sméagol had chosen, and an large, overstuffed armchair with wide wooden armrests as well as the desk Azog kept his tv monitors. Sméagol patted the cushion next to him and Bilbo sank down into the armchair, crossing one leg over the other.

"No, don't sit down yet," Azog said. In person, his voice was less strident than it had sounded in the videos. He stood in front of Bilbo and held his arms out. "Come on, give us a hug."

Bilbo snorted. "I don't think so. Nice try, though." He tipped his head to the side. "Does that usually work for you?"

Azog didn't look at all put off. "Yeah." He sat on the arm of the loveseat away from Sméagol. One corner of his mouth tilted up in a smile; Bilbo thought it even looked honest. "Most people who come here would love to get some of this." He gestured to himself, waving his hand up and down to encompass his whole body.

"Oh, that sort of thing isn't important to Bilbo," Sméagol said.

Azog turned to him, brows up. "What sort of thing? You know our little professor well, so you'd know what he likes. Do enlighten the rest of us." From the way Sméagol's expression brightened, Bilbo suspected he didn't hear the disdain in Azog's voice.

"Well," Sméagol started, "he has this thing where he has to know where everything is in his house. He's, like, always cleaning or working or something." He swallowed; the gulping sound gave Bilbo a chill of disgusted memories. Azog's expression flickered for an instant, the bland interest revealing his underlying negative opinion. "He never wants to go out and do things, you know, he's, like, a stick in the mud. I couldn't get him to go out with me to clubs or anything." 

Azog flashed a glance at Bilbo. "Really?" he asked. "So he preferred to stay at home? Surely, though," Azog leered, "surely there were benefits to _staying in_."

Sméagol bridled. "Well, yeah, but look at him. Would you want to spend much time 'staying in' with him?" He curled his fingers and made very broad 'air quotes' by pulling his arms up and down in the air. "And anyway, he didn't know what he was doing."

Azog's eyebrows rose. He turned back to Bilbo, who was staring at Sméagol and wondering how in the world he'd ever dated this man. "So," Azog said, his tone amused. "You weren't interested in spending much time with Sméagol here?"

Bilbo pursed his lips. "Can you blame me?" He held Azog's gaze for a minute, then said, "It's not as if you don't know – as if we don't _all_ know – that I've traded up." He traced his lips with a finger. "You'd know best of all what I have now. It's definitely feast after famine."

Sméagol's eyes narrowed, but Azog's laugh boomed out. "Yes, let's address the elephant in the room." 

Azog stood and wandered to his seat behind the desk. "Now, where's the … oh yes, here we go." He pressed a button and the screens burst into life, showing various pictures of Thorin. Most were clearly of him from when he'd been on tours; he was shirtless in many of them, his hair flowing over his shoulders – sticking to his sweaty skin and catching in the dark curls on his chest, his eyes closed, his mouth open above the microphone. He looked practically orgasmic in one well-cropped photo. One or two looked like long-distance paparazzi photos; he was with someone different in each of these. 

One photo was different; it looked more personal. It appeared to be an old print photo which had been scanned; Thorin was much younger. In it, Thorin was smiling broadly to someone out of the frame; the sun was over his shoulder and there were the rainbows of lens flare, making the picture look as if it were glowing. The background was a riot of lush plants against which the creamy stone on one edge of the picture showed up starkly. Bilbo leaned forward. _Is that …_ Bilbo sucked in a quick breath and sat back. Thorin was standing next to the Ishtar statue in his grandfather's back yard. As Bilbo blinked, he saw Azog watching him, his expression knowing.

Bilbo let his smile broaden. "He does look compelling, doesn't he?"

The audience, which Bilbo had nearly forgotten about, suddenly roared back to the forefront of his thoughts. People were catcalling, shouting out things they'd like to do to Thorin, or have him to do them. Bilbo jumped, then turned to look at the audience for the first time. 

It was a chaotic, heaving mass of people, most holding their phones pointed at the stage; their faces contorted with shouting behind the hundreds of little glowing eyes pointed at him. After one second of heart-stopping panic, he realized that they were shouting at everyone on stage, not just at him; after another few heartbeats of time spent feeling pinned down by the sheer noise, the view shifted to remind him of a bizarrely loud and active freshman class.

Immediately, he relaxed and looked the audience over more closely. The bright stage lights obscured some of the people, but most looked only a little older than his students. Few looked to be even as old as he was. Something caught his eye: one corner – high up and furthest away from the stage – was still and dark. He could barely see that people were sitting there, but they were neither screaming nor filming. _Huh. No guesses who's sitting there._

He turned back to Azog, who'd been exchanging sexually charged banter with a young woman in the front of the audience. She'd gone pink and her neighbor was giggling so hard she couldn't keep her phone still. Bilbo looked at Sméagol and wasn't surprised to see his face filled with disgust. 

Bilbo sighed. "So, Sméagol, how was the site in China? Did you find anything interesting?"

Sméagol's lip curled into a sneer. "Why would you care? Like, you were never interested before. What, is 'Wonder Boy' too stupid to have a real conversation?"

Bilbo laughed. "Far from it. He's a great conversationalist." Bilbo smiled again, knowing Azog and the audience were watching. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, then rubbed the wood gently. "He has many attractive qualities."

"And that's where I come back in," Azog said, sitting back behind his desk.

"Oh, but I thought it was clear that he didn't find your qualities attractive," Bilbo said.

Azog's expression flashed with anger, then smoothed over. "No one said _he_ traded up," he returned, his smile sharp.

"Well," Bilbo said, feeling unexpectedly amused, "I've said it. But you weren't there. We were alone together, in the soft cozy dark bed." Bilbo didn't look away from Azog's eyes. "He's very warm and strong. And his hands are so talented."

"Guitarists don't have nice hands," Sméagol complained.

This time Bilbo and Azog snorted at the same time. Bilbo caught Azog's eye and they started laughing, the tension which had been building between them shattered. 

"Oh," Azog purred, "Thorin takes very good care of his hands."

"If you say so," Sméagol muttered. Then he swallowed and stared at Bilbo. "Why'd you take that brat? I wanted to ask, like, doesn't he get in the way?"

Over Sméagol's shoulder, Azog's face twisted with disgust again. Bilbo smiled. _Is he not doing what you thought he would, you pillock? You should have done better research._ "Oh, who, my nephew? Family is never in the way, but really," Bilbo waved a hand dismissively. "He's not what we're here to discuss, is he?" 

Sméagol leaned forward, fingers digging into the loveseat arm. "No, he's not. None of your stupid family is. I have to admit, I couldn't believe it when someone told me that you were dating – HA, _dating_ , like that's a realistic thing to call it." He swallowed, the gulping sound caught and amplified by the microphone clipped to the neck of his shirt. "Why the hell would someone like _Thorin Oakenshield_ date _you?_ "

Bilbo pressed his lips together, trying to keep from laughing. "Which is it, Sméagol? A minute ago, you were saying that he must be too stupid to hold an intelligent conversation, and now you can't tell why he's dating me?" He leaned forward. "And, just between you and me," _and the whole fucking world, with these cameras and that audience_ , "I'm pretty sure we've got plans to do more than just _date_."

Bilbo saw Azog's face blanch and kept his smile bland. 

"It can be both, you know," Sméagol said. "You're just a chemistry teacher, after all, and he's an internationally famous rock star. There's no reason to think a rock star is very bright. I mean, have you _seen_ how stupid most of them are. And, of course," he sniffed. "He is getting old."

"He is," Bilbo said soberly. "Grey hairs and all that." He refrained from mentioning the way the stage lights reflected from the bald patch growing on the crown of Sméagol's head. "That hasn't made it hard for him to, ah, _keep up_ , though." Bilbo waited for the audience to stop hooting, then tilted his head to the side, facing Sméagol but keeping his eyes on Azog. "He's very devoted, very solicitous. When we're together, he's never distracted. All his attention is on me."

Azog's eyes were narrow, but his smile remained fixed. "He was always good at acting."

 _Ah, finally, you're starting to show your true colors._ Bilbo arranged his expression to show worry. "He might be pretending, that's true. But he seems so grateful for any kind attention, you know." He shrugged one shoulder. "It's almost like he hasn't had anyone who really loved him, but that can't be right."

"But he's a _rock star_ ," Sméagol whined. "Everyone loves _him_." He jerked his chin. "I mean, what I don't understand is why he'd spend any time with you. You're just a fat little teacher."

Bilbo opened his mouth, but Azog snapped, "He's got a PhD in Organic Chemistry. And he's an author. And don't get me started on the 'Hot Professor' games I can think of."

Sméagol twisted around. "So what? He writes boring papers on chemistry that no one will ever read."

Azog propped his elbow on the desk and leaned his chin on a thick fist. "Tell me – and the audience – a little about yourself, Sméagol Chirish. Tell us why you think that a chemist who writes novels isn't worth your time."

Sméagol simpered. "Oh, well, like, I do research into historical gender roles in China and other Asiatic cultures. I've been working with small villages in China recently – really backwards places. Like working with the yokels who still live in the 'hollers' in Kentucky." He shrugged, not noticing the way some of the audience had gone quiet. "I spent some time in Indonesia, but the girls weren't very pretty."

Bilbo rubbed his eyes. _Oh, Sméagol. What the fuck?_

Sméagol scooted forward on the love seat. "It's, like, really interesting. I work with families to learn how they used to do things and work with the elders of the places to find out why they've stopped adhering to traditional gender roles. I mean, like, some of the smaller places I went to in Indonesia are letting women be involved in planning the village budgets."

Bilbo tucked one hand under his legs and pinched his thigh. _Was he this bad when we were together? I'm going to have to apologize to my parents, aren't I?_ "Gender roles are changing around the world. It is very interesting to study such a sweeping change as it's happening."

Sméagol rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure it's an improvement. Some of it, sure, but what are people going to do when no one knows who's supposed to do what?"

The room was silent for a moment; even the audience was still. Then Bilbo said, "Sméagol, you can't be saying that you think we should all return to 'traditional' gender roles."

Sméagol lifted his chin but wouldn't meet Bilbo's eyes. "I'm just saying that I'm studying it, which you very well know, because you wouldn't come with me when I had the chance to go to China." He swallowed again. "You said you couldn't leave your own work, but it's just stupid chemicals and anyone could do that. I needed you to support me and my work, all you ever cared about was yourself."

Bilbo heard voices from the audience offering him advice; the theme seemed to be that he'd done well to dump him. "I," he started, then coughed and tried again. "I am very sorry that you feel abandoned, Sméagol, but I am not interested in moving to China for an unspecified amount of time. I think we can both agree that it was a good decision in the long run – good for both of us – that we be separate now."

Sméagol crossed his arms. "Well, I certainly don't miss _you_."

"You've made that clear," Azog said, still leaning on his fist at the desk. "And, no matter how repugnant we might find your chosen research bias, that doesn't hide the fact that you've left my main question unanswered."

"What question?" Sméagol snapped.

"Why you think that anyone with more than five brain cells would pass up a man like the good Professor, here." Azog nodded at Bilbo, who suddenly realized how Azog described him before Sméagol had begun talking about himself.

"Wait," he said. He could hear that his voice was too thin to be heard. "Wait. What do you mean, 'writes novels'?"

Azog sat up, a smile blooming across his face. "Oh, Bilbo – may I call you Bilbo? We should certainly be on a first name basis. We have _so much_ in common."

Bilbo waved a hand. "Whatever, I don't care. Just … author?"

"You don't think it would be a secret for long, do you?" Azog tapped at his keyboard; the cover of _Rhovanion_ filled one of the screens. "This is your book, right? Although, I haven't been able to figure out exactly how you chose your pseudonym."

Bilbo licked his lips. "He was my great grand uncle."

"Ah." Azog smiled, then looked at him admiringly. "I've read these – you're quite good. Tell me, are the little people going to – no, no, never mind. No spoilers."

"Like, are you saying that you wrote those?" Sméagol said. "I thought they must be by your father."

Bilbo sighed. "No, Sméagol, I wrote them."

"He's got hidden depths, doesn't he, Sméagol," Azog said. "Authors are always interesting to know. Which," he stood up, propping his fists on his hips, "brings me to our final guest for the day."

The curtain to the green rooms slid open and Smaug stepped forward, his smile like knives in the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking of a mix of [this chair](http://www.homeportfolio.com/catalog/Product.jhtml?prodId=203507) and [this one](http://mollyrosedesigns.com/sample-page/chairs/middlebury/). I want them both, dammit.
> 
> Also, Thorin uses these: [Butterfly Finger Picks](http://www.tinaspicks.com/butterfly-finger-picks.html)


	116. One Hundred Sixteen – Royalty Is What You Make of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And thick and fast they came at last ...

Smaug stepped forward, smiling into the cameras and shaking Azog's hand. He moved to the center front of the stage and stood, one hand on Azog's shoulder and the other waving at the crowd. Azog stepped away, letting Smaug's hand fall.

"This is Sméagol Chirish," Azog said, gesturing to Sméagol, who squinted up at them, "and of course, you know our resident Professor, Bilbo Baggins." 

"We are intimately acquainted," Smaug said, reaching a hand out to Bilbo. Bilbo reached up to shake it, but was startled when Smaug turned his hand so it was back-up and bowed over it. 

_Oh for fuck's sake, do you have to be a pretentious shit?_ Bilbo raised his eyebrows, but didn't smile until he caught a glimpse of the astonished look on Azog's face. "Yes," Bilbo said, pulling his hand back. "We've met."

"Have a seat," Azog said. Smaug looked around the stage, then stiffened as he saw the only seat available was the space next to Sméagol. He made a moue of distaste and shrugged, lowering himself to the loveseat and crossing his legs at the knee. Sméagol eyed him, then ostentatiously crossed his own legs, but propped his ankle on his knee, so he took up as much room as possible.

"So, Smaug," Azog said, slipping back into his chair behind the desk and tapping at his keyboard. "You've got another book due soon?"

Smaug turned to him. "Yes, thank you for asking. I believe it is scheduled for release in October. My agent recently showed me the cover and it is quite striking. I'm certain that it will be positively received."

"This is it, right?" The screen furthest from Bilbo flickered and changed to show a book cover. It was a mountain range silhouetted against a pale stormy sky. Grey snow appeared to swirl around the title at the top, then thinned out to expose the faces of the characters as they stared off the edge of the illustration. 

Smaug's eyes narrowed. "It is, but I had planned on revealing it at a more targeted event." He smiled thinly and brushed non-existent dust off his knee. "However, I am delighted to share it with you and your audience."

They cheered and shouted, and called out questions, which Smaug answered. He laughed at the many requests for spoilers and gave teasing answers. Next to him, Sméagol face grew increasingly sour.

"You know," he finally burst out, "Bilbo writes books as well."

Bilbo barely stopped himself from covering his face with a hand. 

"Why yes, of course, he does. In fact, we have discussed our respective books," Smaug purred, smiling across at Bilbo. "Over a delightful meal, an evening I remember with great pleasure."

This didn't make Smeagol's expression lighten, but Bilbo saw Azog's attention sharpen. 

"Really?" Azog said, beaming. "I didn't know you two were more than acquaintances. I had no idea it had gone all the way to evenings out together." He raised his eyebrows at Bilbo. "Does lover boy know?"

Bilbo sighed. "Yes, of course Thorin knows I had a business dinner with Smaug. Regardless of whether or not it's any of _your_ business, of course." He turned to Smaug. "The meal was quite nice. And congratulations on the upcoming release. I had no idea it was this close."

Smaug tipped his head slightly. "Thank you very much. Your third novel is coming out soon?"

"Actually, the second in the trilogy – and we've put off _Eorlingas_ until mid-summer, which means it's coming out …" Bilbo trailed off, feeling silly. "Soon, yes." He shrugged. "I'm afraid I got caught up in the end of the school year and forgot that summer's here already." 

Smaug's lips curved into a bland smile. "How busy you must be." He turned to Azog. "At any rate, the plots from my novels are more than simple fiction, as you know. They're based on detailed and painstaking research I do into history. _My_ history, and that of my native country. I have managed to preserve many of the records from the royal family of Albania, records of my ancestors, and I am using those as the basis for the stories."

 _And now it's my turn._ Bilbo snorted. "Highly fictionalized accounts, then?"

Smaug turned to him, brows raised politely. "I beg your pardon."

"No need to beg, Smaug. I'm just trying to be sure I understand the facts. You're saying that your books – which are excellent, by the way, very well written. But you're saying that your books are based on real facts, events which really happened?" Bilbo crossed his own legs, letting his suspended foot dangle loosely. 

Smaug's eyes narrowed. "Yes. My novels are based entirely on real events. I may have added bits and pieces here and there to smooth things out, some of the characters are amalgamations of more than one real person, but my books are all based on facts."

"And those facts include Albanian royalty?"

"I am the last scion of the Albanian royal family," Smaug said, his voice cold. "Salic descent, I admit, which prevents me from taking my true place on the world stage. However, my bloodline stands."

Bilbo smiled slowly, feeling an unexpected – and entirely welcome – excitement rising in himself. " _What_ Albanian royal family? Because Albania's never had one. Well," he said, "not one that's stuck." 

"I –" Smaug started, but Bilbo lifted a hand.

"I hadn't finished speaking. Surely you can wait until I have. Of course, that requires truly noble manners." He waited, but Smaug only sat still, his legs uncrossed now, body braced as if to stand. "Thank you," Bilbo said. "So, let's start at the beginning, shall we? There was some hinting at royalty of a sort well back, in the 200s BC, but that can't be what you're claiming a connection to. There's Skanderbeg, in the 1400s, is he who you're claiming as your ancestor?"

Smaug opened his mouth, but Bilbo just smiled and continued. "You could be, certainly, but you're claiming specifically _Salic_ descent, which requires a female line. Skanderbeg had a great grand-daughter, Irene Castriota Scanderbeg, but her son died without issue. So that leaves Skanderbeg out." 

Azog strummed his fingers on his desk and Bilbo looked over. Azog smiled at Bilbo, but his eyes looked hard. Bilbo smiled back, making sure to look friendly. 

"I do hope I'm not boring you," Bilbo said. He leaned back in his chair, letting his hands relax on the wooden arms. "Anyway, the next possible ancestor for you to claim, Smaug, is Prince William de Wiet. He had to be forced into the title – he didn't really have any direct claim to a non-existent throne. He took to it with vigor, though, even though he couldn't stay in the country long. Still, as a way of producing you as an heir, he's a bust. His children, a son and daughter, both died without children, so where does that leave you?"

Smaug's face was thunderous and he started to stand, but Sméagol shifted on the loveseat so that his feet blocked Smaug's. 

"No wait," Sméagol said, his voice dripping with avid malice, "I want to hear the rest of this. Go on, Precious."

Bilbo nodded at him, and took another deep breath. "That leaves the pretenders, starting with, um, Zog I." 

The audience, which had been mostly quiet throughout Bilbo's lecture, suddenly burst into raucous laughter. He turned to them and, after a minute, pressed his hand down in the air. They obliged and quieted. "Yeah," he said, smiling at them. "I know, great name, isn't it?" 

"Was he Commander Zog?" someone shouted from halfway up the audience. 

Bilbo laughed. "No, unfortunately. He was in the military, and ended up Prime Minister of Albania – put there by Russians and the Yugoslavs in the mid 1920s. Anyway, his mother claimed to be related to Skanderbeg's sister, but there isn't proof. Zog didn't even become king until he claimed the title for himself after a couple of years in which he was President." Bilbo shifted in his seat, surprised at how comfortable he felt. _It's oddly like giving a lecture._

"So, Zog claimed the title in 1928, but wasn't ever actually crowned. He had a son, Prince Leka I, but then had to flee the country to escape Italian invasion just before World War II. Leka I got married, but only had one child, a son, Leka II. He's 33 years old now and has been engaged for about five years. No kids." He paused and the room was entirely silent. "Well, none yet."

Smaug stood. "I have no interest in remaining here for this charade," he snarled. He spun and stormed toward the back of the stage. 

Bilbo smiled after him. "What I don't understand is why you didn't use your real life story, Smaug. Or, should I say Annatar Mairon? That _is_ your name, isn't it?"

Smaug stiffened and turned back. "How did you find that name? _Who told you my name?_ "

Bilbo smiled carefully, trying hard not to laugh. "I'm a research scientist at a world class university with access to libraries and universities world wide. You can't possibly think it could remain a secret forever."

Smaug stalked back, shoulders rising to his ears and fists clenched, then stood looming over Bilbo. "You have no right to expose my private life."

Bilbo saw, in the dark corner of the room, a sudden flurry of movement. "If you choose to lie about something so easily disproved, you can't blame people when they discover the truth. I wasn't kidding, though. Your real life is much more interesting than some trite fiction about being royalty. You're a real rags to riches story, aren't you?

Smaug deliberately rearranged his body, dropping his shoulders and lifting his chin. He gave a half-bow to Azog. "While this has been an unexpectedly active experience, I'm afraid I must absent myself. I find that I have mistaken the amount of time I have available to spend here." He turned on his heel and strode firmly through the curtains leading to the green rooms.

There was silence in the whole room for several seconds, then the audience exploded into applause and cheers. Bilbo waved at them and the noise, impossibly, rose. Azog began clapping, a heavy slow thing which was quickly taken up by the audience and for more time than Bilbo could count, the room echoed with the pulse of hands clapping and feet stomping in unison. Finally, Azog held up a hand and Bilbo felt his heart throbbing to the beat in the sudden silence. 

"Well," Azog said, walking around his desk. "That wasn't what I expected at all." He smiled, looking a bit sheepish. "I thought you two would get along, discussing writing and travel."

"Did you?" Bilbo tried to stretch his legs without being obvious. "You know where he's from, after all."

Azog lifted a shoulder, unrepentant. "Eh, I didn't think it would come up." He shifted his weight. 

"On the subject of things better out than in," Bilbo said, extending his legs as far as he could and crossing them at the ankles, "I have a question for you."

Azog spread his arms. "We have no secrets here."

"Why are you still stalking Thorin?" The shadowy corner shifted again. 

"I wouldn't call it that." Azog looked amused. "I've a question for you."

"No secrets?"

Azog nodded. "Why do you think that Thorin will be faithful to you? He has a long history of …" He sat back down at the desk. "Of failing to commit." He pressed a button, opening another set of pictures. 

These displayed in a slide show and showed Thorin over time, starting with when he was much younger than Bilbo expected. _That must be from before he started_ Erebor _. He looks like he's about fifteen._ In the first few pictures, he stood next to a woman with dark hair, pretty in an ordinary-woman sort of way. She disappeared, then Thorin's companions only lasted two or three pictures each. After a moment, Bilbo noticed that Thorin seemed to be alternating the gender of his companions.

"See," Azog said. "He's really not capable of settling down."

"This is what I was saying," Sméagol said, his voice startlingly whiny. "You can't expect someone like that to settle down with someone like you."

Bilbo rubbed his eyes. "Sméagol, I won't even try to unpack that statement." He looked at Azog, who was sitting with his fingers laced together on the desktop. "Alright, so he dated a lot when he was younger. There's nothing wrong with that. What interests me, Azog, is that you kept track. It hurt that he didn't stay with you, didn't it?"

There were a few startled exclamations from the audience, but Bilbo ignored them. Azog's face wasn't as complacent as it had been.

"You hated that he broke up with you. It's so nice to be loved by Thorin Durin, isn't it? There's a steadiness to it, a strength, that no one else ever quite provides. He's hard to lose, Thorin, and no matter what you do, when he's gone, it's like the whole world is duller." Bilbo took a breath, suddenly aware of how much he missed feeling that strength, himself, and how close he'd come to never knowing what it was like. "But he _left you_ and you didn't know what to do."

Azog stood, his arms crossed, facing the audience, his back to Bilbo. He snarled, over his shoulder, "Don't get ahead of yourself. He's not that special."

"Then why do you still keep track of him? Why are you paying so much attention to who he spends his time with?"

Azog threw up his hands. "I'm trying to help you, you fucking idiot. I _like_ you and I don't want to see you get hurt." His face twisted. "And he'll hurt you – he's thoughtless and inconsiderate. Nothing matters to him but his needs, his choices, what he wants to do." He turned and stopped the slide show, which had worked its way through to the blond man Thorin had spent time with when he'd pulled away from Bilbo.

"See, _there_ ," Azog said. "Look at him! He's half your age, and – forgive me – about half your weight as well." 

Bilbo looked. The boy was so young and though his pose looked cocky, his eyes were lost. 

"Azog," he started, but Azog yelped. 

"He's got to you, too, hasn't he? Yet again, someone who won't call Thorin fucking Oakendick on his shitty treatment."

"I don't think that his treatment of me is what we're really discussing. You're still angry at him for abandoning you, aren't you? You'll say anything to make him look bad, make any claim you can get away with legally." Bilbo tipped his head to the side, staring at the way Azog's shoulders bunched up. "Do you ever regret it? Do you regret any of the things you've done?"

Azog spun to face him. "I REGRET NOTHING. HE DESERVED EVERYTHING I EVER DID TO HIM."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god so much research.
> 
> Let's start with [Salic](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salic_law) [descent](https://www.britannica.com/topic/Salic-Law-of-Succession). 
> 
> So, [Albania's](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albania) an interesting place, historically. They resemble Poland, in that they kept getting over-run, although Albania ran to Ottoman occupation. (And yes, that will always look like a giant herd of comfy overstuffed footrests in my head.)
> 
> Here we go:
> 
> [Skanderbeg](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skanderbeg) is the Albanian George Washington - the old leader everyone harks back to. Here's the information about his [descendants](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skanderbeg#Descendants). You'll note that the last ones are red links, so I looked them up: [Nicolo](https://www.geni.com/people/Nicol%C3%B3-Bernardino-Sanseverino-V-principe-di-Bisignano/6000000019008297925) isn't shown as having any children, and this site would show that. I checked and his wife also isn't listed as having children.
> 
> Then there's [William of Wied](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William,_Prince_of_Albania). Imagine being handed a Kingdom and refusing. His son, [Carol Victor](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carol_Victor,_Hereditary_Prince_of_Albania) lived through WWII, but he didn't have any children. His sister died in a Communist internment camp in 1952, which sucks. 
> 
> And yes, [Zog I](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zog_I_of_Albania). (The names keep making me giggle). His son, [Leka I](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leka_I,_Crown_Prince_of_Albania) and his grandson [Leka II](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leka_II,_Crown_Prince_of_Albania). You'll note that Leka II is married now and still claims the title. Wild.
> 
> OMGosh, so it turns out that the Zog family had _goat tiaras_. I couldn't make this up if I tried. Here's [one](https://royalwatcherblog.com/2016/10/07/sapphire-goat-tiara/), the only one they have left in the family. The other one was sold at [auction](https://royalwatcherblog.com/2016/04/08/upcoming-auctions-royal-jewels-for-auction/) in the 60s, as the Zogs were out of money. (I have to say, a lot of the jewelry offered for auction on that page is terribly gaudy, but that's my personal taste. I guess I'm just too plain for the aristocracy.)


	117. One Hundred Seventeen – Oh Really Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One thing about keeping a secret is that you have to _never talk about it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's some nasty language here about being gay. I'm sorry about it - some of it is based in changing times and some in general character's ugliness. Be warned, please.

One Hundred Seventeen – Oh Really Now? 

 

Azog panted, heaving great deep breaths. "We were good, we were _perfect_ , but then he had to go and fall in love with that _bitch_. And when I tried to show him that I was better for him, that he should choose me, he pushed me away. So, I fixed it. I showed him – I showed everyone. I made sure that she'd –" He pulled to a stop, baring his teeth like a dog at Bilbo. 

"How long _have_ you been obsessed with Thorin?" Bilbo inspected his nails as he asked, trying to look unconcerned. 

Azog cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets. It looked as if he'd made fists there; Bilbo glanced away from the heavy lumps distorting the line of Azog's suit trousers. "I don't think keeping up with people you've been friends with since being a child counts as 'obsession'," Azog said.

Bilbo nodded. "True, but usually people just follow each other on Facebook or something. Making at least one blog entry per month about who he's been dating – and always with such bizarre focus on the negative parts – is just peculiar." 

Sméagol looked back and forth between them, his eyes narrowing. "Wait," he said. "I don't understand. You used to date Thorin. That's why you asked me here?"

Bilbo smiled at his feet. _I think I need new shoes. These are getting a bit worn. Maybe wingtips?_ "Well, Sméagol, did you really think he was interested in what you're studying?"

Sméagol shrugged, but his expression didn't lighten. "I just thought we'd …" He looked sullenly at the crowd, which was shifting a bit. Sméagol stared at them, then at Bilbo, then his lips pressed tightly together and he nodded sharply at him. "Okay then," he said. "I'm in." 

Bilbo started to say something, but Sméagol interrupted him. "So, where did you meet Thorin? Tell me about it – Bilbo clearly knows all of it, but I don't." Azog turned to look at him, but Sméagol just stared back, his expression flat. "I mean it," Sméagol said, "if you're going to have this argument, I think you should give us all the backstory. It's only fair." He smiled, and Bilbo found himself amused at having that particular smarmy expression aimed at someone else.

Azog's own expression darkened. "I don't see that it's any of your business –"

"NO HOLDS BARRED!" The crowd was deafening. When Azog spun to face them, they repeated the line, some even standing up at their seats. _"NO HOLDS BARRED!"_

Bilbo laced his fingers together over his chest and smiled at his knees. _Atta boy, Sméagol._

Azog froze, then turned stiffly and sat down. "What do you want to know?" he asked.

Sméagol simpered. "I think a basic run-down would be good. Catch us all up, you understand. I mean," he shrugged and tapped his chest, swallowing wetly before continuing, "It's not like everyone here cares enough to keep up with who's fucking who."

"Thorin's grandfather moved to my home town –" 

"And where's that, exactly?" Sméagol leaned forward, eyes bright. 

"Here," Azog grunted, and Sméagol sat back. Azog glared at Bilbo for a second, as if daring him to say something. Bilbo tapped his lips with a finger, then shifted in his chair. 

"So where's his grandfather, then?" Sméagol pressed.

"He's dead," Bilbo said. "He died many years ago."

Sméagol shot him a glance. "Whatever. So he's dead and you're friends with Thorin. What, did he follow you around at school? Oh!" He sat up, face bright. "Were you the _cool kid_? Was _he_?"

Bilbo pressed his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. 

Azog wasn't smiling. "He lived in New York and only came up here for the summers. His family was - _is_ rich, and they had a pool. His grandfather worked with my family, so we were stuck with each other." He paused, then tapped his fingers on the desk, looking uncomfortable. "He was the cool one," he said, voice nearly too soft to hear. 

"In New York? Oh," Sméagol said, waving a hand, "you mean, like, the city? Why'd he come up here if he lived in _New York City_?"

Bilbo sat up a bit. "Many people have summer homes up here," he said. "It's not how I grew up, but it's not unheard of." 

Sméagol rolled his eyes. "Yeah, maybe not for the fucking super rich, whose side are you _on_? Anyway, so he'd come up and grace you with his presence over the summer and you made friends with him for his pool?"

Azog stared at him. "I – there was more to it than that. We had a lot in common. He and his cousin would hang out with us. He always had the best ideas."

Sméagol stared at him, then wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Okay, so he was the cool rich kid from the big city. That works. But why the obsession? What made him so special that you're still following him around?"

"I'm _not_ …" Azog gritted his teeth. "It wasn't normal, what we were, not then. It's fine for kids now – like Bilbo's nephew and his –"

"I'll thank you to leave him out of it," Bilbo snapped. As the crowd started to shout, he turned to them and snarled, "He's a sixteen year old boy whose parents just died. I know what the rules are here, but he's _not here_ and not involved, and I won't have him dragged through this. You can ask me anything but leave him out of it." There was a pause and he said, voice pitched to carry, "I know that the last of the 'rules' is 'We're all adults here.' but he's neither here, nor an adult."

One man in the back shouted, "No holds barred!" but no one else joined in and Bilbo nodded firmly. 

He turned back to Azog. "You were going to say something about how hard you had it as a teenager in the 70s being a 'fag'? You're not the only one here who lived through that time period, so let's take it as given that you were convinced that you were 'wrong' or whatever shit you grew up believing about being gay. I'm not interested in your personal growth, I want to know why you won't leave Thorin alone."

The silence was broken by Sméagol cackling. "There's the Bilbo I used to know." 

"Thorin and I fell in love," Azog snarled. "We did, and it was real. And then he went off to college and left me behind. I followed after, and it was great. California was different. No one cared that we were faggots. I mean, _queer_ ," he sneered. "And since I could get good – I mean, since everyone was high anyway, nothing mattered. We started a band –" 

"Erebor?" Sméagol swallowed as he said the name.

"No. It didn't last, it was just some stupid college thing. We were going to start a _real_ band, just the two of us after college. The other people he'd met out there were getting in the way, they kept telling him to leave me behind. It wasn't fair, I'd been his friend since the beginning and he was dumping me for them, for people he barely knew." Azog glared into the middle distance and Bilbo wondered what he was seeing. "He'd told me when I first got there that we weren't involved any more, but he still fucked me so I knew – _I knew_ that if I could just make him see that we were still perfect together, he'd see it as well. And then he met _her_." 

The room was silent. Bilbo wasn't sure half the audience was even breathing. 

"He kept seeing more and more of her. She asked him to quit the band and he agreed. I mean, what the fucking hell, man? He'd wanted that band forever. He was the fucking _lead guitar_ , it was _his_ band, but because that simpering bitch was jealous, he pulled out. I was sure, then, that his other friends would see my side of it, that she was trouble, but they just gave up. I didn't get it." 

Azog's hands closed slowly into fists. Bilbo wondered how long he'd been sitting on this story, how long he'd wanted to air his grievances against Thorin.

"So I went to him, to talk, you know? I thought I could get him to see what a mistake he was making. All he could talk about was how he was going to marry her. _Her_? That homely little hag?" He grimaced. "He was going to get married and have kids and work for his _father_ , like _that_ was a good idea, with his brother in the firm as well. How fucking plebian. He could have been _great_." Azog paused again, still looking at his own memories. He blinked and looked at Bilbo. "He _is_ great."

Bilbo sighed. _I can't really disagree._ "And then what?"

Azog peered at him. "Then what? Oh," he flattened his hands on the desk. "And then he told me off. He said that he didn't want to see me any more, not anywhere. That we weren't friends, that we'd never been friends, that he was done with me."

Azog bared his teeth, and Sméagol flinched away; Azog's smile was all threat and malice. Bilbo saw one of the girls in the front row lean forward, her face filled with excited pleasure. 

"So I wrote to my brothers and got them to fix it so that she'd go home, the stupid cow. And it worked. She broke up with Thorin and he was mine again." His face twisted. "Only then he didn't appreciate what I'd done, how much I really loved him. He told me that he'd never loved me and that I'd have to kill him too before he'd be with me again."

"What do you mean 'kill him too'," Sméagol whispered. 

"Well, if killing her brother wasn't enough for him, what else – " Azog stopped, half out of his seat, leaning forward slightly. "What did you – ?"

Someone in the audience made a short high sound, there was a small commotion at the curtains, then Erestor and Elladan ran forward onto the stage and up to Azog, at the desk. Erestor grasped one of Azog's wrists, staggering as Azog pulled his arm back. 

Elladan stood where he could be seen on all the stage cameras. "Azog Gogol, my name is Elladan Peredhil. I am a special agent with the FBI. You are under arrest for the murder of Jacob Epstein." 

Azog yanked his arm back from Erestor; the cameras caught the bright flash of light off the silver handcuffs already around one wrist. "Get off my show, you fucking shitbag. You don't have anything to arrest me for." The flare of camera flashes from the audience was blinding; the room filled with gasps and shouts of amazement.

Elrohir, who'd snuck up behind Azog without Bilbo noticing, yanked on the free-swinging second cuff. As he pulled Azog's arm behind his back, he shoved at the back of Azog's head and twisted his own hips. Azog stumbled and fought, but Erestor and Elrohir pulled his arms together behind his back. The sound of the second handcuff latching closed was lost in the general mayhem.

Sméagol crouched at the side of Bilbo's chair. "What the fuck, Bilbo?" He looked genuinely upset.

Lindir stepped into the center of the stage, facing the audience. " _If you would please be silent,_ " he snapped, and they fell quiet so quickly Bilbo felt his pulse surge. "Thank you. I am Special Agent in Charge Lindir of the FBI. I'm sure this is very exciting for you and that you are looking forward to your next engagements, but I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you to stay a little longer. My agents will have to interview each of you and we will require a copy of any photographs or videos you took of the show."

"But we're allowed to post them anywhere, that's the rules," someone called from the crowd. 

"We need copies, with your names attached," Lindir repeated. "Given the parameters of this show, I'm certain that this is in no way private, however, we will need all the possible evidence." He paused and glanced to where Elladan had joined in the wrestling match with Azog. "We will be setting up interview stations here on stage as soon as we can. Thank you for your patience."

He walked to where Bilbo and Sméagol were. "Very well done, Professor. I didn't think you had a chance. It was a good idea to involve your – " He paused and looked blandly at Sméagol. "Your ex. Very convincing."

"Oh, I – right," Bilbo said, standing up. He felt a bit unsteady; Sméagol wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

"We're going into one of the green rooms," Sméagol said, chin up and glowering at Lindir, who raised his eyebrows back. 

"Just don't leave," he said, without inflection. 

As they pushed through the curtains, Thorin came dashing up the corridor, shouldering heavily past anyone who didn't get out of his way. "Bilbo," he called. His face darkened when he saw Smeagol's arm.

"Here's your boyfriend," Sméagol said. He let go, shoving Bilbo slightly so he fell into Thorin. "There's an empty room there. Come on." Sméagol led the way into a smaller green room than the one Bilbo had waited in. 

As soon as Sméagol shut the door, Thorin wrapped both arms and one leg around Bilbo, burying his face in Bilbo's hair and squeezing so tightly that Bilbo couldn't quite breathe. 

"Oh Bilbo," Thorin muttered, "I couldn't – I saw you there and I couldn't … and you were –" 

"Oh for fuck's _sake_ ," Sméagol whined, at the door. "This is pathetic. If you're going to be like this, I'm going back out there to see what's happening." 

Bilbo waved a hand at him, then heard the door close. After a long moment, Bilbo said into Thorin's chest, "You were supposed to stay at my parents' house."

Thorin laughed a bit wetly. "Your mother drove me to the airport."

"Traitors." Bilbo breathed in the old-iron-and-stone scent of Thorin, then shoved at him. "Come on, I need to breathe."

Thorin stepped back slightly, but didn't let go of his arms. "Bilbo," he said, his face working. He squeezed his eyes shut. "You have to promise me never to do something like that again."

Bilbo started laughing. "Do you have any more homicidal maniac ex-lovers? No? Good. Then I won't have to." He looked around. "I'm sitting down in that chair, I don't know what you're doing."

Thorin scooped him up and swung around before sinking down into the chair so that Bilbo was across his lap. "I'm never going to let you go, is what I'm doing. How fucking stupid …" He pressed Bilbo's head into the curve of his shoulder; Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin as he felt Thorin's shoulder begin to shake. "I can't lose you," Thorin whispered, voice thick with tears. 

After a second, Thorin sucked in a deep, shuddering breath and tipped his head back. He wiped his face with a hand, then said, "What the hell did you think you were doing?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that fun? No research for this one!


	118. One Hundred Eighteen – Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are still a few surprises for Bilbo.

One Hundred Eighteen – Coming Home

Bilbo chuckled, letting his head fall back onto Thorin's shoulder. "I wasn't planning on having Sméagol help, that's for sure." He rubbed his eyes, then ran a hand through his hair. "That was a surprise."

Thorin sighed. "He's … I can see why everyone hates him."

Bilbo snorted. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Thorin grinned. "So, I should be able to get away with anything, if he's what your family's comparing me to."

Bilbo tried to elbow Thorin, but nearly slipped off Thorin's lap instead. Thorin's arms tightened and Bilbo's breath caught at the sudden shift of expression on Thorin's face. "Oh," Bilbo said softly, reaching his arms around Thorin's neck and holding on. "I'm not going anywhere, it's okay."

They stayed wrapped up in each other for several minutes, then Bilbo sighed and pulled back slightly. "We should go see what's going on."

Thorin nodded, his face still tucked into the curve of Bilbo's neck. He pulled in a deep breath and said, "I forgot to tell you. I've moved into your room at the bed and breakfast. Your mom says we can stay a couple of extra days, if you want."

Bilbo stood up, propping his hands on his hips. "Oh really? What if I wanted to go straight home?"

Thorin shrugged as he walked toward the door. "Then we go home." He turned and faced Bilbo. "Where you go, I go." His face was grave and serious.

"Oh." Bilbo walked up to him and cupped his cheek with a hand. "Oh, Thorin."

Thorin quirked one side of his mouth up in a half-smile. "That's me." His eyes looked uncertain, and Bilbo stretched up to kiss him. 

"Okay, big boy," Bilbo said, "let's go find out what's going on."

The corridor was busy; people in suits walked briskly past as Bilbo and Thorin came out of the green room. 

"There you are," a voice called from the end of the corridor furthest from the stage. Bilbo turned to see Elrohir smiling at them. "Come here. We've got questions for you to answer."

Elrohir lead them past a half-open door through which Bilbo heard Azog's deep voice angrily demanding to know where his lawyer was. As they passed the door, Azog saw him. 

"You little shit," he called. "What the hell was that?"

Bilbo smiled at Elrohir, then stepped into the room. An FBI agent Bilbo didn't know stood against the wall, looking carefully neutral. Azog's hands were handcuffed to either side of the metal chair he sat in.

"What was what?" Bilbo asked. 

"You set me up, you fucking – " Azog stopped and glared at Thorin, who'd followed Bilbo into the room. For a heartbeat, his face filled with sorrow and longing, but then fury obliterated everything else.

_Oh, Azog. I'm so sorry._

Azog surged to his feet, bent over by the chair. "YOU FUCKING –" Before he could take a step forward, the FBI agent slid in front of Thorin and Bilbo, still mostly expressionless. 

"Sit _down_ , sir," he said firmly. Azog glared up at him, then deliberately bared his teeth. "If you don't sit down," the agent continued, "I'm afraid we'll have to restrain you further."

Azog growled, but lowered the chair back to the floor. "How did you get that slimy piece of shit ex of yours to set me up?"

Bilbo lifted a shoulder. "I didn't. I had no idea he was going to be on the show."

Azog settled back into the chair, glancing back and forth between Bilbo and Thorin. His lips twisted. "He is slime."

"Yes." Bilbo tucked his hands into his pockets. "Yes he is."

"What did you – "

The door opened completely and a short, ferrety looking man came in. "I understand," he said, his voice a nasal assault, "that my client has been kept unfairly restrained."

The agent raised his eyebrows. "Who are you?"

"My name is Grima Wormtongue, Esq and I am the legal representative of Azog Gogol." He shook his stringy hair back from his face and wet his lips with his tongue. "I demand the immediate removal of those," he twitched his hands at the cuffs, "restraints."

The agent pulled a radio from his pocket and spoke quietly into it. By the time he'd finished, Elladan was at the door. 

"Ah, Bilbo," he said, smiling, "you're needed down the hall." The smile fell from his face and he turned to the newcomer. "Mr Wormtongue, if you could just take a seat, we'll have someone here in just a moment." 

Bilbo and Thorin went back into the corridor, nearly running over Lindir, who stepped to the side just in time. He glowered at them, then moved past them into the room with Azog and shut the door firmly behind himself. 

At the end of the corridor, they passed through a large break room with several microwaves, a sink, and several table and chair sets. The room was filled with men and women in dark suits, all typing into laptops or conferring about things. At one table, an agent sat interviewing someone that Bilbo assumed was a show staff member. 

They kept going and found Elrohir waiting around the corner. 

"What took you so long?" He gestured to the room he was guarding. "Come on – they're all waiting."

Inside the room, Tatyar and Ereinion stood talking to a sturdy man with crisp white hair, tanned skin, and dark brown eyes. He turned as the door opened; his gaze was sharp and assessing before his face broke into a smile.

"Ah, the brilliant young professor. How good to meet you in person at last," he said, stepping forward, his hand held out. "I am Sauron Mairon." His hand was warm and dry; he shook Bilbo's hand, then turned to Thorin. "And you must be the musician."

Bilbo felt a bubble of mirth at Thorin being referred to as a 'musician', but then something caught his attention. "Wait," he said, " _Mairon?_ But that's …" 

Tatyar smiled. "Told you," he said to Ereinion. "Ten bucks. Come on." He held out a hand and cackled at his co-worker's rolled eyes. 

"Yes," Sauron said, turning back to Bilbo. "He is, I'm afraid, a distant cousin. In fact, that is one of the reasons I insisted that we become involved." He sat down at the table and waved a hand at the other chairs. "Please, be seated." 

"I'll be getting coffee, and I think the FBI will have found the local donut emporium. Want anything?" Ereinion asked, at the door. After everyone answered, he left the room, closing the door gently. 

Tatyar sat down next to Bilbo. "That history lesson was well done."

"Thank you." Bilbo turned to Sauron. "So, you're here for Smaug?"

Sauron inclined his head. "Yes. We have been tracking his involvement with the drug trade in Albania for many years now and when we learned of the possibility of connecting him to your Mr Gogol, it was a chance we could not miss."

"What drugs?" Thorin asked. He sounded angry, which confused Bilbo. 

Sauron faced Thorin directly. "Yes, we thought you'd be interested. It is exactly what you suspect, Mr Durin. I believe that this will effectively put an end to the Palantir trafficking in your home town." He gazed at Thorin, then dipped his head again. "I regret this, but I'm afraid I must ask a favor."

Thorin's mouth twisted. "You want to talk to Faramir."

Sauron looked sad. "Yes, if that is something you can arrange. Our case will be stronger with …" he trailed off for a moment and just looked at Thorin. "With an attractive young man to be the 'face' of the injured parties."

"I'll email him." Thorin looked bitter. "He finally got away from all of this, though. I don't know that he'll want to have anything to do with it. I know his brother won't agree."

That evening, Thorin and Bilbo sat in Loni Blieklok's kitchen as she served them dinner. She chattered away about old local history with Thorin, but Bilbo noticed that Nali was mostly quiet. When they finished and were headed up to their room, Nali pulled him aside. 

"We were watching," he said. "That was a good thing you did. Many of us will have better lives now." Nali patted Bilbo on the arm. "You take care of him, now." He wandered back to the kitchen, leaving Bilbo staring after him, bemused.

In their bedroom, Thorin sat on the bed looking at the business card Sauron had given him as they left. Bilbo sat next to him. "So," he said, "what's Palantir? A drug, I assume, but …"

Thorin stuffed the card in his pants pocket and rubbed his face with both hands. "Yeah. It gives you visions – supposedly you can see what's happening all over the world. Or in the future. Or," he waved his hands wildly, nearly hitting Bilbo in the face. "Or in the past."

"I think I've met Faramir," Bilbo said. "He seemed nice. Very friendly. He, ah, didn't seem prone to visions."

Thorin fell backward on the bed and snorted. "No, he's much better now. For a while he was really ill. His father was being such an asshole about it – even Boromir couldn't get the jackass to get Faramir the treatment he needed, but …" Thorin sighed and rolled onto his side, facing Bilbo, still sitting on the edge of the bed. "That's how I met Bergil, actually. Her father stepped in and insisted that Faramir be put into a treatment facility."

Bilbo huffed a laugh. "Well, I guess that explains several things." He ran a hand along Thorin's arm. "Let's get into bed. It was pretty comfortable last night, but I'm sure it'll be better with both of us." 

The next morning, Loni brought enough breakfast for five people and set it all up on the small table in the room. As she was leaving, she stood in the doorway and said, "Thank you. I know it doesn't mean much, we're just regular people and all, but thank you for getting that man into jail." The click of the door closing behind her filled the room.

Bilbo fell back onto his pillow. "Oh god," he said. "I just realized. Night before last, when I got here, Nali said that they'd lost their son to Palantir. I didn't know what he meant and he didn't say."

Thorin, already up and investigating the trays of food, smiled at him over his shoulder. "And now you're the Hero of Syracuse."

Bilbo threw a pillow at him. "Right. Not fucking likely." 

After breakfast, Bilbo started packing his bag. 

"Do you want to stay for a couple of days?" Thorin flipped his own small bag open and started folding his shirts. 

Bilbo zipped his bag closed. "You know, I don't think I do." He paused and glanced at the window. "That was … I hadn't thought about it, but that was really public. I feel like I should hide for a while."

Thorin closed his own, now full, bag. "It'll die down, the publicity. And it'll have – I mean, the show and Azog are really important here, but we could go to New York and take a couple of days. Trust me," he laughed. "No one will notice you in New York. No one notices anything in New York."

Bilbo shook his head. "It's tempting, but I sort of want to get home."

***

When they pulled up in front of his parents' house, Bilbo felt the tight knot of anxiety which had been growing in his chest since Azog's arrest begin to melt. Frodo, Sam, and Bungo boiled out of the house together, all laughing and talking at the same time; when his father pulled him in for a big hug, Bilbo felt the anxious knot snap and dissipate.

"I'm so proud of you," Bungo said, his hands on Bilbo's shoulders, looking directly into his face. "That was so well done – you couldn't have done better."

"Oh my god," Frodo said, "did you really date that asshole?"

Bilbo started laughing. "Yes, unfortunately."

Bella pushed through the group. "Out of the way," she said, "coming through." She wrapped Bilbo up in her arms and, standing there in the early summer sun with the scents of new growth and his mother's perfume, Bilbo felt the last shreds of worry fade away. _It's over. We'll be fine now._

They spent the next day relaxing around Hobbiton; Frodo and Sam went off in the morning to spend time with Merry and Pippin, who'd come up to visit family for the summer, and Thorin succumbed to Bungo's offer of a walk through the Bindbole Wood. Bilbo found himself in the kitchen, happily kneading bread with his mother.

"So," Bella said, "was it as awful as it looked?" She poured frozen blueberries into a bowl filled with batter and began slowly stirring them in.

Bilbo folded the bread and shoved hard. "Probably worse. I haven't watched it. I don't know that I want to." He rolled the bread dough over and kept shoving. "Lobelia was right to say that they'd have Sméagol there. That was good thinking." He rubbed the back of his wrist across his forehead. "I should thank her."

Bella smiled sharply down at her blueberry muffins. "If you want, I can dig out the rest of the old silver and you can give it to her as a thank you gift."

Bilbo laughed. "That's … yeah, mom, that's a great idea." They were silent for a few moments; Bella filled six extra large silicone muffin cups with the batter and slid them, on a cookie sheet, into the oven. 

"What happened with Smaug?" She untied her apron and sat down at the table. "You sent him packing pretty quickly, but then he just … disappeared."

Bilbo cut the dough in half and shaped the halves, dropping each into a greased loaf pan. "Oh, right. It turns out, he's not a US citizen – just here on some long-term visa or something. I didn't really catch that part. Anyway, the men from Numenor arrested him." He covered the loaves with a moist tea towel and set them on the stove top where the oven's heat would help them rise.

They sat, discussing what had happened, until Bella's old kitchen timer rang and she stood to take the muffins out of the oven. "You know," she said to him, cutting one open and spreading butter on it. "If we eat these quickly, no one else even has to know we made them at all."

Bilbo grinned, and buttered his own muffin. "You always were the smart one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not quite the end, but I think I can see it!


	119. One Hundred Nineteen - Glimpses of Two Tours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And summer's finally here, with book and music tours. Happy and fun-filled travel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of smut at the end of the chapter. Nothing too racy, but still. 
> 
> And at least one of you's noticed that I've added a final chapter count. Next one's the end. What'll I _do???_

Bilbo shuffled after the excessively tall and wide person in front of him, stretching and twisting as much as he could in the narrow airplane aisle. He'd refused Thorin's offer of a First Class ticket, but after having been stuck for three hours in the center seat over the plane's wing, he regretted it. 

Once in the airport, he followed the signs to Baggage Claim, where he waited patiently for his bag to tumble down the ramp and rattle its way around to where he stood. Rolling it behind him, he followed the crowds to Rental Car pickup. In the car – a dark green Mercedes – he figured out how to hook up his phone to the internal bluetooth system and called Thorin.

Making his way around Chicago was a bit exciting, but he found his way to the hotel. The doorman smiled as he took Bilbo's keys and handed him a plastic chip. "Have a nice afternoon," he said. "We'll have someone bring your bags up. What room?"

Bilbo blinked. "Thanks, but I'll be fine. There's just the one bag." He walked into the lobby, shaking his head. At the desk, he gave his name to the bright eyed young man behind the counter, who handed him a plastic key and directions to the elevators.

When Bilbo walked into the large room, he laughed softly. "Another small apartment, Thorin? You'll only be here three more days."

Thorin came out of the bedroom, toweling his hair dry. He shrugged, smiling. "It's a nice room, though. Come and see the view." 

That evening, over a chaotic dinner at a local pub, Dori leaned past Gloin and Bifur. "Bilbo, Nori said you're doing a signing here? Will you be doing a reading as well?"

Kili perked up. "A signing? Of your books? That's cool – where's it going to be? Can we come?"

Bilbo swallowed his bite of burger. "I'm going to two different bookstores, and I don't think that's a good idea."

Kili looked hurt, but Fili – across the table – rolled his eyes. "Kili, do you think he wants to have his book signing taken over by people wanting to talk to you about the band?"

Bifur chuckled. "Have you had any fallout from the show?"

"Azog's thing? Less than I expected," Bilbo said. He saw Thorin's face stiffen, and patted his leg. "Mostly, people at home don't seem to have watched. There might be a bit of a kerfuffle when school starts again, but it's still summer, so maybe things will blow over by then." He ate a couple of fries. "No offense, Thorin, but it's not like you're Taylor Swift."

Dwalin barked out a laugh. "Oh, that's a lovely image, that is." He and Gloin exchanged delighted looks across the table. "I'd like to see him with one of those lace things wrapped around his head." 

"When are you going?" Thorin asked. "I've got tickets for you to see the show, but I couldn't remember which nights you were going to be signing."

The next day, Dwalin collected Thorin in the mid-morning for sound testing. He grinned at Bilbo as Thorin dithered in the bedroom over whether or not he'd need a book. Bilbo sighed and produced a copy of _Rohirrim_. "Thorin, just bring this."

Thorin pounced on it, then hugged Bilbo and, lifting him up, swung him in a half circle. "Thank you," he said. "My very own copy, given by the author himself."

Dwalin rolled his eyes and shoved Thorin out the door. "Come on, idiot. Time to go."

Bilbo grinned as he shut the door behind them.

That afternoon, he drove carefully through traffic to the bookstore. _Bucket o'Blood. I should remember to get their card – Pippin would be beside himself._ The shop was filled with the happy sounds of chaotic rearrangement. A young woman with dark hair nodded at him from the front counter, saying that she'd be right with him.

"No problem," he said, smiling. He wandered around a bit, looking at the books on the shelves. The space was warm and friendly, with ochre yellow walls and soft oriental style rugs. He wandered past the records, wondering if Thorin would like any of them, then settled down to poke through books. A little while later, he was immersed in a book with the unlikely title of _WOOL_. 

"Hey," a male voice said, from the front of the store. "Have you seen the author, Baggins? He was supposed to be here half an hour ago and I can't find him."

Bilbo grinned, closed the book and, tucking it under his arm, strolled up to the front of the store. "Here I am," he said. "I was just browsing – your selection is great."

The dark-haired woman looked a bit sheepish, but Bilbo just stuck his hand out. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service. Or," he shrugged. "Bandobras Took, I guess."

"Good to meet you," the man said. He shook Bilbo's hand. "We've got books back here for you to sign, if that's okay." He led Bilbo to a well upholstered chair with a large desk and a pile of books. "And do you want anything? Coffee? There's a great bakery just up the street."

Bilbo sank into the chair. "Coffee would be fantastic, thanks, and I'd love to try whatever you think is good from the bakery." He pulled the first book from the stack and opened it. _There's a special magic to the sound of a book being opened for the first time._

Later, the store filled with chatter and milling people. Bilbo sat in a different chair near the front, where the staff had cleared a small space so customers could sit down and hear him. He laughed as the shop owner called out that they were starting and everyone needed to settle down.

"Okay," Bilbo said, "thanks for coming. And I hope you enjoy _Rohirrim_. It turns out that it's not the end of the series –" The crowd cheered and Bilbo grinned, bowing from his seat. "Yes, thank you, I'm excited as well. I think the plan is that I'll read a bit from the beginning of _Rohirrim_ , then we'll discuss the books a bit and I'll sign them for you." Bilbo opened his copy of the book and, taking a sip of coffee, started reading. 

He read for half an hour, entertained by the feeling of reading to these adults – strangers – as if they were his small cousins. When he finished, and after the applause, he stood and stretched while the staff brought out the small table he'd been sitting at in the back. The audience moved around a bit; most people got themselves coffee and a cookie from the snack table set up near the front. 

Bilbo sat down and, magically, everyone lined up, faces bright. The first person stepped forward, a tall man with very dark brown skin and hair so white it nearly glowed in the lights. "I've been reading all your books," he said, his voice soft and deep. "I love the horses. My da kept horses, long time ago." He set down copies of all three of Bilbo's books. "Can you make them out to Maisha? She my granddaughter. She's gone be a chemist, like you."

Bilbo beamed up at him. "That's wonderful! I'm glad you like the horses – I spent years with them and they're wonderful, aren't they?" He bent over the books, then looked back up. "Sorry, do you – you said she's going to school for chemistry? Do you want these signed as Bandobras Took, then or Bilbo Baggins?"

Maisha's grandfather smiled at him. "Bilbo Baggins, if you don't mind."

Bilbo signed all three books, then said, "Where's she going to school?"

"She graduates High School next year. We're looking at colleges around here, but –"

Bilbo held up a hand and bent over, rummaging in his satchel. "Ah, there, found it." He pulled out his card case and handed one over. "Have Maisha send me an email and I'll get the Admissions Department at my school to give her a look." Bilbo shook hands with the tall man. "Thank you very much for reading my books. Tell her I can't wait to meet another chemist."

The next readers were less directly interesting, although they were all enthusiastic and energetic. After about ten or twelve people had gone through, a group came up together, all giggling and whispering. One stepped forward, carrying both _Rohirrim_ and a photograph of Thorin. "Can you sign both of these for me?" she giggled.

Bilbo looked at the picture, then at the young lady and her friends. "No. Sorry. I'm here to sign my book, not pictures of some other man."

"Oh, don't be shy," one of the other kids in the group said. "We know you're dating him. You got his ex thrown in jail."

Bilbo sighed. "Are you here for my book, or just to gawk?"

The girl who'd been first whisked the photo back into her bag and pushed the book a little closer to him. "I'd like my book signed, at least." She watched him start, then said, "But I want your real name."

He smiled and asked, "Is there a name you want it made out to?"

She tipped her head to the side and thought for a minute, then said, "Nah, thanks. It's for me."

Bilbo bent forward and signed his name.

He still got back to the hotel room before Thorin; the band had a loud and – to Bilbo – very entertaining dinner in the hotel restaurant's private back room. 

The next morning, Thorin ordered breakfast and lunch from room service, and they spent the hours before Thorin left for the show reading and planning the rest of their summer. That evening, Dwalin sent a car for Bilbo about half an hour before the show started and he was whisked up to a private booth. It clearly had been an office of some sort, probably as recently as a couple of hours beforehand, but it had an openable window overlooking the stage and Dwalin had made sure that the room was stocked with tea and cookies. 

The next day was nearly the same as the first, although the bookstore was different and the signing was at mid-day. In the second bookstore, three people asked about Thorin, but everyone was polite and, when Bilbo continued to refuse to talk about anything except himself and his writing, they even seemed to lose interest in the salacious details.

Bilbo got back to the hotel just as Thorin was leaving. Thorin, obviously already distracted by the show, gave him a quick hug and kiss, then drifted down the corridor towards the elevator. Bilbo laughed and shut the door behind him, sighing deeply.

He rubbed his face and wandered into the middle of the sitting room. "What'll I do now?" he asked the couch. He made a cup of coffee and sat down at the table, looking out the window at the way the city lights reflected off the bits of cloud rolling by. His phone chirped and he patted himself down, looking for it, finally finding it in his satchel.

_From: Dwalin  
To: Bilbo_

_Hey, we're going to run late tonite. It's the last show for Chicago, so there'll be encores. I'll bring him to you after – the rest of us'll go out, but we'll leave you two to it. :D :D :D  
_

Bilbo rolled his eyes. 

_From: Bilbo  
To: Dwalin_

_Thanks. (I mean it.)  
_

Bilbo thought for a minute, read over the room service menu, then called down. Ten minutes later, someone was at the door with a selection of cheeses, several types of bread, a small bottle of wine, and a hamburger. Bilbo thanked him and settled down at the table with the burger and the book he'd bought at Bucket o'Blood.

After a while, he moved to the couch, bringing the cheese plate and wine – and the book. An hour after that, room service knocked on the door again. Bilbo handed over his empty plates, and set up a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne, a dozen strawberries, another burger, and two large glasses, finally changing into one of the hotel robes.

Less than ten minutes after room service left, there was an odd rustling at the door. After a second, Thorin pushed it open and stepped into the room. 

"Thorin," Bilbo said, standing up from the couch. "You're – "

"Why are you still up?" Thorin swayed slightly; his hair hung down limply and his face was slightly grey. 

Bilbo laughed softly and wrapped an arm around Thorin's waist. "It's not that late. Come on, I got you a burger. Have a seat." He shoved Thorin carefully into the chair and sat across the table from him. Thorin blinked at him, then down at the burger. Bilbo sighed and pushed the plate closer. "Try a fry. You look wiped out."

Thorin ate a french fry, then blinked and picked up another bunch of them, shoving them in his mouth with a groan. "Oh god," he muttered, then dove into the rest of the food. 

Bilbo leaned back, watching him eat. "So, how many encores did they ask for?"

"Fhree," Thorin mumbled around a large bite of burger, with an added fry. He looked around the table and Bilbo handed him a glass of water. Thorin nodded thanks and drained it, finishing his meal a few moments later. "Wow," he said, sounding much less confused. "That was … thank you." 

Bilbo smiled and stood up. "Go wash your hands, then come back here. Oh," he raised his eyebrows, "and take off your clothes, while you're at it."

Thorin hesitated for a second on his way to the bathroom, then his steps sped up. He came out of the room a few minutes later, wearing the second robe and an eager expression. 

Bilbo had poured the champagne while he waited; when Thorin sat down, Bilbo handed him a large glassful. He tapped the glasses together, and leaning forward carefully, kissed Thorin. "Here's to surviving the past and making a new future," he whispered against Thorin's lips.

The kiss deepened quickly, and Bilbo pulled back to set their glasses aside. He opened their robes, and straddled Thorin on the couch, sliding his hands up Thorin's chest, enjoying the way Thorin's chest hair was slightly crackly and stiff from the sweat he'd worked up on stage. 

Thorin pulled back a little, saying "I must smell – "

Bilbo buried his face in Thorin's neck. "Wonderful. I can't … " Bilbo licked from the base of Thorin's neck to the point behind his ear and Thorin's body jerked under him. Bilbo smiled, feeling a heady rush of power and arousal. He moved his hands up Thorin's neck, then buried them in Thorin's hair, bringing Thorin's head to his own neck. "Just there, baby, come on…"

Bilbo felt Thorin's hands glide up his legs; Thorin's strong thumbs pressing in on Bilbo's thighs as they moved up from his knees to his groin bringing a wave of heat and pleasure. Bilbo grinned against Thorin's cheek and wrapped Thorin's side braids around his hands. He tugged sharply and Thorin's whole body bucked under him, making Bilbo hiss as their cocks rubbed against each other in the tight space between them. 

Thorin's eyes were glazed slightly and Bilbo felt a surge of need rush down his legs. "You're so sexy like this," he whispered, then bent forward and began working on making Thorin forget everything in the world except Bilbo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the bookstore, [Bucket o'Blood](http://www.bucketoblood.com/index/index.html%22). I've got to go there! And the [bakery](http://www.bulldogbakery.com/cur/). I found a list of cool bookstores in Chicago, so if you're there, maybe you could check them out: [Chicago book stores](http://chicagoist.com/2016/12/21/best_independent_bookstores.php).
> 
> Here's where Thorin's show [is](http://www.uicpavilion.com/pavilion/). Nice and big, no? And here's where they're staying, the [Crowne Plaza](http://www.thechicagometro.com/). They're in an Executive King Suite.
> 
> While researching hotels, I found this: [Soho House](https://www.sohohousechicago.com/), the Chicago branch of [Soho House International](https://www.sohohouse.com/), which is a members only hotel/bar/danceclub thing supposedly for super rich "creatives" (I hate that word). The thing is, it's mostly filled with dudebro banker types, as that's who can really afford it and who's attracted to the pseudo-exclusivity this offers. Maybe the international housing benefits are worth it, but I'll bet you that Beyonce isn't staying in a place that just anyone can find online. Also, their requirements are weirdly offensive and cliquish - they require that membership applicants be sponsored by two current members and that, among other things, they provide a head shot of themselves. Uhhh, yeah, no.


	120. One Hundred Twenty – Full Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a year and things come back around to the beginning. Nothing is ever quite the same, though. 
> 
> If you're lucky, they're even better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this has been a wild, wild ride. Thank you all for coming along with me, and for your comments and jokes and wild suppositions. I enjoyed every single minute I spent with all of you.
> 
> There are still B Sides to write and I'll be working on other fanfic as well as original stuff. Come see me at stasiaonline.tumblr.com - I'll try to be more active there!

Bilbo parked his car and groaned as he leaned into the back seat and dragged out his school bag. Sounds of laughter poured out through the screen door, making him smile as he stepped inside. 

Three backpacks spilled their contents on the floor of the foyer, and Bilbo sighed, then shouted, "Hey monsters. Come clean up your mess!"

Merry and Pippin barreled around the corner, grinning, with Rosie and Sam behind them. "Hi, Uncle Bilbo," the first two chorused, scrambling down and gathering up the bags. "When's dinner?"

Rosie rolled her eyes. "Hi, Bilbo," she said. 

"Hi, Rosie," Bilbo said. "How was school?"

She shrugged. "It's school." Behind her, Sam snorted. "What?" she asked, twisting to look at him. "You don't have to deal with gym this year, so what do you care?"

Bilbo laughed as the four teenagers tumbled back down the hallway.

In the kitchen, Thorin stood at the stove, stirring something in a large pot. He smiled over his shoulder at Bilbo and held an arm out. "How was school?" He kissed the top of Bilbo's head.

Bilbo leaned into his side. "If I never have to sit on another fucking committee meeting…"

Thorin snorted. "Good luck with that."

"Ugh," Bilbo said, stepping away and rubbing his face. "What is that, chili? It smells good."

Thorin put a lid on the pot and wiped his hand on the apron he had tied around his waist. "Yeah. I bought rolls from Nabolom bakery, but Sam wanted rice, so." He shrugged. 

Bilbo filled the coffee maker with water. "They'll eat it all and you know it." He sat at the table and pulled a stack of paper from his satchel. "When are you leaving tomorrow?"

Thorin sat next to him, turning one of the papers so he could see it. "I'll need to be there in the morning, but the music doesn't start until one."

Bilbo nodded, then stood to pour two cups of coffee. "We'll probably get there earlier than that, if I know the kids. Frodo's really excited."

Thorin chuckled and watched as Bilbo started grading the quizzes. "Do you have to do this now?"

Bilbo shot him a look. "Well, I don't want to do them tomorrow, and since dinner's not ready…"

"Right." Thorin peered at Bilbo's writing. "Want help?"

Thorin had made enough chili to feed at least ten people, so naturally, there wasn't any left by the time Frodo and his friends finished eating. Bilbo stood up, when he finished his own serving, and said, "Okay kids, when you finish feeding like locusts, get everything washed. When you're hungry again, we can have pie with ice cream."

He settled into his office, but left the door open a crack. A few minutes later, Thorin tiptoed in, carrying a pot of tea, cups, and a book. "I'll be quiet, I promise," he said.

Bilbo opened the file with the fourth Rohan novel and took a happy sip of tea.

The next morning, he woke up slowly with the dreamlike memory of Thorin kissing him goodbye. He yawned, then shuffled to the bathroom for a brisk shower. In the kitchen, he made a triple batch of waffle batter and started cooking bacon. In half an hour, he had a cookie sheet with stacks of waffles keeping warm in the oven, as well as a plate nearly overflowing with bacon. 

Rosie bounced into the kitchen, her hair damp. "Oh excellent," she said, "breakfast." She pulled down a stack of plates and filled her own from the oven. "And you made coffee, thanks." After a few minutes, she looked up from her plate and said, "When are we going to the show?"

Bilbo turned away from the view of the garden. "Oh, Thorin said the music starts at one, but I don't think _Erebor_ starts until three or later. You'll want to wander around before, though, right?"

She nodded, bringing her plate to the sink, then slipping it into the dishwasher. "My parents gave me money."

"What'd they give you money for?" Pippin asked, staring sadly at the empty counters. "And isn't there breakfast?"

Rosie rolled her eyes and Bilbo grinned, stepping out into the back yard. He'd kept up with the weeding over the summer, but the tomatoes needed to be harvested. Sometimes he thought the tomatoes were literally ripening before his eyes. He'd made it through all the tomato plants and had started working his way through the zucchini when Sam poked his head out of the kitchen. 

"We've finished cleaning up. When do you want to go?" he asked, holding out a large bowl. "And here's for the tomatoes. They're nuts this year."

"Thanks," Bilbo said, setting the bowl down and filling the bottom with zucchini. "I can go anytime. Is your mom still okay with me borrowing her car?"

Sam laughed. "No, she's decided she wants to come along. I think she's even convinced dad to come. She said to just knock on the door when we're ready."

Bilbo shook his head. "This'll be fun." He finished filling the bowl with tomatoes and went back inside. "Let me just rinse these and then I think I'm ready."

The drive into San Francisco was boisterous; Merry was trying to explain his new secret plan to get to buy beer without getting caught. Bilbo caught Hamfast's eye and they laughed. 

"So, Bilbo," Bell said, turning to look at him in the second row of seats. "Tell me, are there things for us old fogeys to do, or is it really just for young people?"

"Well," Bilbo said, "at the very least, you can buy some beer to go with your lunch." She laughed and he continued, "There are craft booths, and _Erebor_ isn't the only band playing, so there is other music to hear. I don't know if it'll be to your taste, but…" 

"Oh, mom doesn't like rock music," Sam said. 

"If you call that rock," Bell muttered, "then that's where you're wrong. Just because you kids ruined it …"

Bilbo laughed and watched the sunlight flash off the water. Small sailboats dotted the bay, moving briskly along in front of whatever wind they could find. Ferries left white wakes behind them as they rushed on their routes. 

Bilbo directed Hamfast to the small parking lot Dwalin had told him about; when Bell asked how much parking would cost, Bilbo pulled out the pass Dwalin had included in his email with directions. 

"Nothing to worry about," he said. "You're traveling with a friend of the celebrities, now."

Hamfast slid the minivan door shut, then turned to the teenagers. "Now, everyone pair up. We're not going anywhere until I know you've got a buddy."

"Dad, we're …" Sam began, but then stopped when his father started laughing. 

At the festival, Tauriel gave them all wristbands to get into the private viewing area when _Erebor_ started, then everyone wandered off. Bilbo stood next to Tauriel for a few minutes, watching the crowd. 

"How's school? Have you had a lot of questions?" she asked.

"There were a couple, the first day, but I said that any questions about that stuff would lower the whole class score by half a grade point. I've never seen a classroom go quiet so fast."

She laughed. He saw Legolas glance at them from his position up on the RV rooftop, near his father. 

"Well," he said, "I'm going to wander about. I'll be back for the main event, though."

He moved through the crowd, enjoying the general good feelings and happiness. After half an hour, he saw someone leave a booth carrying a bright metal dragon. _Ah, there they are._

"Bofur," he said. "How are you?"

Ori looked up from behind the counter. "Bilbo! How are _you_?" He came around and hugged Bilbo tightly. "We watched the show and that was amazing. Bofur said that he heard from the guys in the band that things turned out okay, and I saw in the news that Azog's been charged with lots of things, but…"

Bilbo laughed. "My summer was good, actually. I don't think we should talk about the – "

"Oh wow, how did you make these?" a young man asked, holding up a large bird with articulated wings. "It's totally dope."

Ori turned to him. "They're very intricate, aren't they? They're geared, and each one is hand made." He glanced at Bilbo, shrugging. "We've got those – eagles – and there are dragons over here."

The back of the booth lifted and Bofur came through, carrying a large bag which smelled like burgers. "Hey, Ori, I got – oh, Bilbo! How're you?" He set the bag down and came around to give Bilbo a hug. 

Ori finished selling the customer the eagle and a small carving of a bear, then opened the bag, inhaling deeply. "I missed 5 Guys, thanks, Bofur." He reached into the bag, pulling out a paper cup. "Want some fries, Bilbo?"

Bilbo accepted a few, then jumped when Bofur rushed past him to whisper in Ori's ear. Ori grinned, looked at Bilbo, shook his head, then whispered back. Bofur shot Bilbo a grin, then dove under the sales table. He emerged with something clasped between his hands. 

"Close your eyes and hold out your hands," he said, beaming at Bilbo. Obediently, Bilbo did. Bofur pressed something awkward and pointy into his hands, then said, "Okay, open."

It was a carving of a small man wearing a lab coat, holding a vial in one hand and a book in the other. He had safety goggles shoved on top of his head, and a broad, happy smile. Bilbo turned it over in his hands, looking at the painted details. 

"Is this … me?" 

"Yes!" Ori crowed. "Do you like it? Bifur carved it just for you."

Bofur pointed at one of the tables Bilbo hadn't noticed. Among the elves and the dwarves, a contingent of Mad Scientists stood, books held up against any shenanigans the other carved people might get up to.

"I – " Bilbo stared at the face, expertly made to look like his. "You're selling me?"

Bofur laughed so hard he fell back against the sales table. "You're very popular!"

A few minutes before _Erebor_ was due to start, Bilbo worked his way through the crowd to the section of the park the radio station had cordoned off, then, when Legolas waved to him, up to the RV rooftop viewing area. 

He stood with Legolas to watch and smiled as the band was announced. This time, he watched the stage, instead of the MC, who was slightly to the side; he saw Thorin and the rest of the band slip into place before the lights flashed and the crowd roared.

They swung immediately into one of the songs they'd played the year before and Bilbo found himself struck by the difference between the first time he'd stood here and now. _I'd never have believed it, if someone had told me._

_Erebor_ played for nearly an hour, mixing in some of the songs Thorin had written during the year. Bilbo recognized some of the melodies from things Thorin had plucked out in his living room, during the winter. 

"Hey," a deep voice said, "Bilbo, good to see you." He turned to see Gimli slipping through the small group to stand next to Legolas, who bent and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. 

"Gimli," Bilbo said. "How was your summer?"

Gimli beamed at him. "Good. I got some research done and we got to go away for a couple of weeks." 

"Don't you have a bunch of work? It's your last year," Bilbo said.

"Yeah," Gimli shrugged, "but I didn't want to miss this."

"And now, there's something special I'd like to play." Thorin's voice echoed across the park. Bilbo turned to look at the stage. Thorin was handing his guitar to a stage hand and Dwalin brought up a chair and something bulky. 

"Oh god," Bilbo said, "is that his _harp_?"

As Thorin sat down and opened the harp case, the other band members set aside their own instruments; they came and stood behind Thorin, all beaming at him, and, oddly, in Bilbo's direction. 

Thorin looked over the audience, then took a deep breath and leaned forward slightly, hampered by the harp on his leg. "I know that many of you follow the celebrity news. It's been an interesting year – " He waited for the crowd to stop shouting, then continued. "Personally, one thing is more important than the rest of it. So." He paused, pressed his lips together, then hitched the harp higher on his leg. "You know who this is for." 

He bent over the harp, pulled in a deep breath, then started playing. A few notes in, he started singing. The skin on Bilbo's arms prickled and he leaned forward, watching expressions chase across Thorin's face. As the last two lines of the song were repeated, Thorin looked up, directly at Bilbo.

Thorin set the harp to the side, then stood up, still staring into Bilbo's eyes across the crowd. "Bilbo, there's something I'd like to ask you."

Bilbo stared at him, feeling like the world had gone slightly staticky. 

"Come on," Gimli said, next to him. "Let's get you up there." He took hold of one of Bilbo's arms and Legolas grasped the other. They walked Bilbo down the stairs, then through a mostly quiet open channel through the crowd. Bilbo barely noticed; he spent the whole time watching Thorin, who stood in the center of the stage, eyes locked on Bilbo's progress.

At the stage, Gimli handed Bilbo over to Dwalin, who beamed at him. "Come on," he said, his voice soft. 

Bilbo made it to the center of the stage, then Thorin sank to one knee. He grabbed the front of his thigh, then looked panicked for a second. Someone laughed and handed Thorin a small box. "I knew you'd forget it."

Thorin opened the box, turning it so Bilbo could see into it. A plain gold band reflected the lights from the top of the stage. 

Thorin took a deep breath, then said, "Bilbo Baggins, will you marry me?"

Suddenly, the ridiculousness of the whole situation struck Bilbo and he started laughing. "Yes, of course. You sill – umph – " Bilbo couldn't finish; Thorin was hugging him so hard Bilbo thought he might break a rib. In the distance, the crowd was roaring, and somewhere nearby, Bilbo heard happy laughter. 

Thorin stepped back, then pulled the ring out of the box. "I'll –" he realized the clip-on mic was still on, and he tugged it off so it dangled over his shoulder. "I'll get you something more personal," he said, his voice no longer echoing over the park, "but I wanted you to have something today."

Bilbo laughed again. "I love you." He pulled Thorin into another hug and smiled as the crowd screamed.

Later that night, when the whole band had come home with him to have an impromptu engagement party, Bilbo looked up at Dwalin, who'd settled into one of the overstuffed chairs and appeared to be trying to eat all the cookies he could get. 

Dwalin grinned at him. "Bet this isn't what you were expecting when you got up this morning." He paused and swigged his beer. "The whole year's been an adventure."

Bilbo leaned back against Thorin's chest in the corner of the couch, and shook his head. "I think one adventure's enough for me, though. They make you late for dinner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were two songs I pictured Thorin playing. One is [_And So It Goes_](https://youtu.be/rsVuqwVccRw), by Billy Joel. I know a lot of people seem to think it's melancholy and about breaking up, but it always sounds hopeful to me, like it's about someone opening up to the one they love, despite the fear that they'll be hurt.
> 
> The other is [_Groovy Kind of Love_](https://youtu.be/4N3dsOeglzY), originally by the Mindbenders. The most famous cover is, of course, Phil Collins', but this acapella version is quite striking.
> 
> In the end, I went with _And So it Goes_ , because I thought it fit this Thorin a little better.
> 
> I think they'll end up with [Soundwave rings](http://www.soundwavering.com/gallery/), although I do find this [guitar string ring](https://www.etsy.com/listing/504128289/guitar-string-ring-titanium-ring-with) pretty attractive as well.
> 
> And yes, Bifur carved Bilbo so he could be part of the Family Set.


End file.
